


Touch my tears with your lips

by nowhereminded



Category: Queen (Band)
Genre: A lot of first times, Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Background Relationships, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Light angst with a fluffy ending, M/M, Roger thinks he's straight isn't that funny, Romantic Fluff, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Tiny bit of Angst, and freddie is the best friend to ever exist, anyways this is so gay please enjoy, he's a mess what can i say, he's also so done with roger, roger is a complete dumbass, roger panicks a lot, so many soulmate tags
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:33:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 29,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24312820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nowhereminded/pseuds/nowhereminded
Summary: Something told Roger that was going to be a very good day, a special day— and he wasn't wrong. It was going to be special. After all, you only meet your soulmate for the first time once in your life.
Relationships: Brian May/Roger Taylor, Jim Hutton/Freddie Mercury
Comments: 56
Kudos: 110





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This was born after a sleepless night made me wonder how Straight™ Roger would react if he met his soulmate Brian who is Not A Woman. And then I added Freddie The Best Friend to the mixture, and voilá! A thing.
> 
> Please enjoy!

The day had started fairly well, truth be told.

Last night he went to sleep early, a little bit before midnight, so he had gotten seven full hours of sleep. Considering the best he usually got were three or four hours, it was a fucking miracle. He had gotten up with enough time to take a nice, hot shower, and he even made himself some _breakfast_! Sure, one wouldn’t think a couple of toasts with jam and a cup of tea is the most nutritious, complete breakfast one could have, and you’d be right. But to Roger, who usually only had time for a long sip of cold coffee before rushing out the door, it was an improvement.

With a smile on his face and a happy stomach, he left his tiny apartment careful not to wake his roommate, Tim, and headed to the bus stop. He was wearing for the first time a new jacket that he bought a few weeks ago, all fluffy and warm, full of fur on the inside. He would have waited for a more special occasion to wear it other than a Monday, but something told him that was going to be a _very good day_ , a _special day_ , a day worthy of that jacket. To complete the outfit, a tight pair of jeans and a nice blue shirt— with, of course, the first two buttons unbuttoned. Who cares about the cold when you’ve got fashion?

For the first time in forever he wasn’t on a rush to get to school, and he allowed himself to actually enjoy the bus ride. It was crowded, yes, and he still missed some personal space— but he wasn’t feeling murderous every time the driver made a stop or didn’t press the accelerator as much as he wanted him to, and that was also an improvement.

Once he got out of the bus, which conveniently dropped him right in front of the school, he started looking for Freddie. He found him near the campus cafe, probably waiting for him just like the good friend he was. As always, he looked tired but stylish. When Freddie lifted his gaze from his phone and spotted Roger, he gave him a crooked smile and a whistle.

“Look at you!” he squealed, shamelessly checking his friend out. He asked for a turn with a move of his fingers and Roger obliged. He laughed cheerfully as he turned slowly so that Freddie could appreciate his whole outfit. “Looking good today, Taylor.”  
  
“I know. I look amazing, don’t I?” Roger smiled, finally stopping in front of the other.  
  
“You do, darling. What’s the occasion?” he asked while touching the soft texture of the jacket and letting out an appreciative hum.  
  
“Nothing, really. I just felt like today was going to be a great day. I had breakfast, you know?”  
  
Freddie gasped. “You? Having breakfast? That’s rather impossible. The Roger I know would never give up a few extra minutes in bed for some trivial nutrients.”  
  
“I’m a new man.” he grinned.  
  
“So it seems. Shall we?” Freddie asked with a smile, gesturing towards the building. “I still have to print my project, so we’ll make a tiny stop before going to class, yes?”

Roger was in a way too good mood to complain about the extra steps, so he simply intertwined his arm with Freddie’s and started following him. In no time they were in front of the copy room, reserved for all those students who were too busy, lazy or poor to afford making their own impressions. Freddie was all of them.

“And when exactly are you going to talk to him?” Roger asked while leaning against the wall next to the copy room. The door was closed, which meant all the printers were being used at the moment and that they had to wait.  
  
“It’s not so easy, Rog. He could be my soulmate. I have to think very carefully what my first words will be.” Freddie answered while crossing his arms.  
  
The blond rolled his eyes and smirked. “It’s like, the third time you say a pretty bloke could be your soulmate.” he reminded him.  
  
“But this time it’s different! I swear to god, Rog, I feel like… Like he could be _him_. Everytime I look at him I think “This is it. This is what I’ve been waiting for”. And then…”  
  
“And then he looks your way and your legs turn into jelly and you feel like fainting. Yeah. I know, Fred. It just feels like you obsess too much over this soulmate thing, you know? I’m not saying he’s not the one, I’m saying maybe you should, I don’t know… Take it easy. Whatever your first words will be, he must have read them a thousand times by now. They are already written, literally. So why worry?”  
  
“I can’t help it. I have to worry, it’s in my DNA. Deadlines and projects never stress me, but this…” he sighed.  
  
“I know, buddy. It’s okay.” Roger gave him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder, and Freddie lifted his gaze.  
  
“How come you don’t worry about it? You have a soulmate as well, you know? What makes you think your first words won’t be horrible?”  
  
Roger grinned. “Nah. My first words to my soulmate will be perfect, I know it. She’ll fall in love with me just by the sound of my voice.”  
  
“What, your dog wistle voice?”  
  
“ _Excuse me—_ ”  
  
Roger was interrupted by the door being opened and, a second later, by a very cheerful “Hi guys!”. Both men turned at Mary, who was holding a folder and smiling fondly at them.  
  
“Mary, my love,” Freddie greeted before wrapping his left arm around her waist and giving her a peck on the cheek. “We haven’t seen each other in a lifetime! How are you?”  
  
“We had lunch together on sunday, Fred.” she laughed.  
  
“Like I said, a lifetime.”  
  
“Oh my God, Freddie, you’re gross. Excuse me while I throw up real quick.” Roger gagged, causing both of his friends to laugh. “Give me the pen drive and I can print your project while you guys are gross together.” he offered, stretching his hand.  
  
Freddie smiled and reached into his pocket to give him the frog-shaped USB. “Thank you, Rog, you’re a darling.”  
  
“Yeah, yeah, just don’t get used to it. I’m having a good day.”  
  
Freddie winked at him and he rolled his eyes before turning to the door of the copy room. Before he could touch the knob, though, the door opened with a very quick and violent swing. He barely had time to take a step back and avoid getting his face punched by a piece of wood.  
  
He huffed, mildly offended, and stared at the guy who had opened it. Tall, very tall, curly and soft-looking hair and apparently no experience opening doors whatsoever.  
  
“What the hell, man? Did you want to kill someone or do you have a personal vendetta against that door?” he frowned. He was halfway expecting an apology or an equally offensive comeback (it wasn’t totally unusual for sleep deprived students to completely erase _basic manners_ from their memory in order to make space for the finals), but instead the guy just stared at him with wide eyes. Roger raised an eyebrow. “What’s your problem? You could have knocked me out, aren’t you going to apologise or something?”  
  
To his dismay, the tall, lanky and with increasing possibilities of deaf guy just kept staring. His lips were slightly parted and his eyes read amazement, as if he had seen Roger grow a second head.  
  
Roger wasn’t particularly known for his patience. “ _Hello_? Are you going to say something at all?” he asked, going slightly mad with every second that passed.  
  
Finally, Curly seemed to get back to Earth from whatever galaxy he was visiting in his mind and blinked as if he had just gotten out of a shock. He swallowed and quickly licked his lips, all while still staring at Roger.  
  
“I’m sorry, I— I wasn’t expecting you today.” he said in a soft, awed voice.  
  
Before Roger could ask what the fuck did he mean by that, he felt a strange and warm tingle on his hip. It wasn’t unpleasant, just a bit weird, and he didn’t know what was going on until—  
  
Until it clicked.  
  
_I’m sorry, I wasn’t expecting you today.  
_  
Those were the words that had been engraved in his skin from the day he was born. The words he had been waiting to hear, preferably after saying something nice and remarkable to… _to his soulmate_.  
  
His soulmate.  
  
His soulmate who was supposed to be the person he would spend the rest of his days with, who was supposed to be his other half, the love of his life, the one and only.  
  
His soulmate who he had been, deep down, incredibly excited to meet.  
  
His soulmate who was a dude. A very tall, lanky, curly dude.  
  
His soulmate, who was definitely not a woman.  
  
His soulmate.  
  
Right.  
  
No.  
  
Roger opened his mouth, tried to say something but no sound came out. He swallowed, took a deep breath through his nostrils until his lungs were at full capacity, turned around and walked away.  
  
As he walked towards the end of the hall, he started accelerating his pace until he was running more than he was walking. He kept walking and walking and walking until he was out of breath, and then he finally stopped and took a look around. He noticed a bathroom and made a run for it, checking it was empty before closing the door behind him. He locked himself in one of the stalls and took a moment to catch his breath. Then, with trembling hands he unbuttoned his jeans and clumsily got them down enough to check the black sentence carved on the skin of his hip.  
  
Only it wasn’t black anymore— it was golden.  
  
“Oh no,” he whispered, clutching his mouth with a hand and steadying himself with the other. Eventually his knees gave up and he pressed his back to the cold tiles, slowly sliding downwards until he was sitting on the bathroom floor. “Oh, no, _no, no, no_ …”  
  
He closed his eyes tightly and pressed his knees against his chest before burying his face between them. He could only hear his own breathing— fast, shaky, ineffective, panicked. He was panicking. He was panicking because he had met his soulmate, who was a man, and he didn’t want a man, he was straight, he liked women, he shouldn’t have a man because he didn’t like men, he never had, but now his soulmate was a man and…  
  
“Rog? Are you in here?”  
  
His breathing got caught in his throat when he heard Freddie’s voice. He hugged his legs even tightly, pressing his lips together and shutting his eyes closed as if that would make him disappear.  
  
“I hear a breathing, is that you?”  
  
He didn’t answer, hoping Freddie would just leave. He was in for a big disappointment, though, because he didn’t. He heard him sigh and close the bathroom door before taking a few steps to the only closed stall.  
  
“I know it’s you, darling,” he said in a soft, comforting voice. “May I come in?”  
  
Roger shook his head, and Freddie couldn’t see him but he guessed silence was enough answer because he sighed again.  
  
“What happened, baby? Talk to me.”  
  
Freddie knew Roger didn’t like it when he called him _baby_ on a normal basis, mostly because he was constantly fighting against that _baby boy look_ he was born with; he knew that Roger was self conscious about his image, about how the rest of the world thought of him, and that he sometimes worried too much about his looks.  
  
But he also knew that when he was feeling down he didn’t _mind_ it, or at least he never commented anything about it. Deep down, Freddie thought Roger actually liked it, but didn’t allow himself to _publically_ like it in fear of what the others would think.  
  
Roger sniffled —turns out he had started crying at some point— and shuffled closer to the door, where Freddie was pressed. He could see his shoes.  
  
“I met him.” he murmured.  
  
Freddie didn’t reply for a moment. “You met who, darling?”  
  
“My soulmate. The guy from the copy room. The one who opened the door. He’s my soulmate.” Roger cleared out, and just as those last three words left his lips, he started crying uncontrollably.  
  
“Oh, Roger, let me in, please. I need to— okay, hold on.”  
  
At first, Roger didn’t register what his friend was doing. Then he noticed he had moved into the stall next to his, and was shimming under the wall that separated them. It took him a bit, but eventually he was kneeling in front of Roger.  
  
“You see, you really should have opened the door, because I’ve just crawled across a floor full of shit and now I’m going to hug you.”  
  
Roger let him. He let him hug him, and caress his hair, and kiss his forehead, and hold him tight and silently letting him know he’d wait until he was ready to talk. Ten whole minutes would pass before Roger decided to open his mouth.  
  
“What am I going to do?” he whispered, face hidden in Freddie’s shoulder who now had his back pressed against the tiles so that he could cuddle Roger more comfortably. He didn’t stop his gentle strokes when he answered.  
  
“What do you mean? You found your soulmate. What could you do other than get to know him?”  
  
“But— but he’s a man, Fred. A man. And I’m straight. How is that even possible? Aren’t soulmates supposed to be made for you and only you, the perfect fit and all that stuff?” he asked, a hint of panic rising again in his voice.  
  
“Well… Yes.” Freddie conceded. He thought for a few seconds before speaking again. “Now, Roger, I don’t want you to get all defensive, but… Are you sure you’re straight?”  
  
The bond raised his head and looked at him as if he had said the Earth was a pentagon. “What are you talking about? Have you ever seen me with a dude?”  
  
“No, but—”  
  
“Yeah, that’s because I don’t like guys! I like girls. Always have. Being with a man has never even been a possibility to me, it’s never… I never even considered it. I’ve never even been curious about it. It’s always been girls for me, only girls.”  
  
“I’m not saying you don’t like girls, Rog. I’m not saying you’re gay, either. All I’m saying is your soulmate is a man, and that might mean you could not be as straight as you thought.” Freddie explained calmly, still holding Roger close.  
  
“That’s bollocks.” he muttered. “I don’t like guys. There’s nothing about them that I like. I like tits, not dicks, alright?”  
  
“Have you ever tried?”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Have you ever tried, you know— a dick?” he shrugged.  
  
“I— no, of course not! Fred! I’m telling you I—”  
  
“Then you shouldn’t be so sure.” he interrupted. “I thought I was straight as well, you know. Now look at me.” he winked, and Roger did try to avoid it, but ended up smiling a bit.  
  
“Yeah, well— we’re different. I’m a hundred percent straight, no doubt.”  
  
“That sounds exactly like the kind of things I said to myself.”  
  
At that, Roger kept silent for a while. Freddie didn’t press the matter anymore, he just kept holding and caressing him. After almost fifteen minutes, Roger went rigid. Freddie looked at him, suddenly pulling himself together (he had been thinking about his cats for the last ten minutes). “What’s wrong?”  
  
“I— Fred. That was my soulmate. And I— I left.” Roger blurted, apparently just realizing now.  
  
“Yes, we noticed. Mary was pretty worried, you know? Not very nice of you.” he nodded, patting Roger on the head. “And, well, of course, you also left your soulmate there after you first met him. That’s not very nice either.”  
  
Roger grunted and hid his face in his hands, whining. “What am I going to do?” he whispered.  
  
Freddie looked at him as if he was dumb. “Are you having a blond moment? You’re going to go talk to him, of course.” he said in a matter-of-factly tone.  
  
“No. Not that.” Roger shook his head, eyes blown wide and looking quite terrified.  
  
“Yes, yes that. He’s your soulmate, you can’t just ignore him. Some people never get to meet them and you’re going to pretend he doesn’t exist? Don’t be ungrateful, you little twat.”  
  
“No, Fred, you don’t get it, I— I can’t. I really can’t. I need… I need time. Okay? I need time.”  
  
“Time for what?”  
  
“To accept it! To accept that my fucking soulmate is here, in my same school, and that he’s a dude. Okay? I— I might consider the non-straight thing, but I— I need time.” he pleaded, looking at his friend like he was an almighty god that could give him what he was asking for. Freddie sighed, but nodded.  
  
“Okay, blondie. Take your time. But remember, we know nothing about him. He could be really patient and understanding or a stone cold bitch.”  
  
Roger was silent for a moment. “He didn’t look like a stone cold bitch.” he then mumbled.  
  
Freddie gave him a crooked smile and pretended to think about it. “You’re right. Plus, it would be a terrible idea from the Universe to get you a soulmate that’s exactly like you.”  
  
Roger raised an eyebrow and grinned. “Give me a break, Farrokh.”  
  
Freddie groaned. “See? That’s why I didn’t want to tell you my old name. I knew you’d use it against me. I trust you with my biggest secret and this is how you repay me?”  
  
“Only because you called me stone cold bitch.”  
  
“Yeah, well, you kind of proved my point, didn’t you?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freddie is the friend we all want but none of us deserves.
> 
> Let me know if you liked it! Thank you for reading <3


	2. Chapter 2

A day had passed, and Roger wasn’t feeling any better. Less shocked, sure— he’d had time to get his head around the idea. But he would still panic and feel like crying a bit from time to time, feeling like it was too much and that he wasn’t ready and that he was going to fuck things up and that he should probably throw himself out the window. Freddie had spent the evening with him, helping him avoid any other little panic attack and keeping his mind distracted, but had eventually left to his own flat.  
  
Unable to resist the temptation, Roger had looked up on the Internet all about wrongly distributed soulmates, people who hadn’t gotten along with their soulmates, people who had preferred to stay as friends with them. It didn’t make him feel any better, to be honest. He didn’t want another _best friend_ , he didn’t want an _acquaintance_ , he wanted his fucking _soulmate_. And he wanted his soulmate to have boobs, was that too much to ask?  
  
“Well, you look awful.” were Freddie’s first words the moment he arrived to school.  
  
The look that Roger sent him, thankfully, was enough to shut him up. “I stayed up all night trying to figure this out. Did you know there’s people who don’t like their soulmates? Like, some people found their other half only to find they’re absolute jerks. Or that they just don’t get along, or there’s no spark, or any other thing. Come to think about it, why do soulmates even exist? Why can’t the Universe let people decide who they want to spend their life with?” he ranted, gaining the attention of a few other students that were passing by.  
  
Freddie sighed. “Yes, soulmates don’t always work out. But that doesn’t mean yours won’t work out, Rog.”  
  
“But he’s a guy.” Roger mumbled in an almost embarrassed voice.  
  
“Yes, but he could be the guy of your dreams. You never know.” Freddie nudged him softly and wrapped his arm around Roger’s shoulders. “I’ll tell you what. I know for a fact there’s no one at the cafe at this hour. How about I treat you to a muffin and a cup of tea? We gotta give some nice, sugary fuel to that pretty head of yours.”  
  
Roger smiled and nodded, adding a little “okay” before letting his best friend lead the way.  
  
Four hours later, and after surviving a dreadful class about microbiology, Roger joined Mary and Freddie on the hallway that lead to the laboratory. He had texted Freddie in the middle of the class to remind him that he had to finish a project and that he had booked for himself one of the microscopes for a couple of hours. Freddie had replied with a puking emoji next to a heart emoji and told him they'd wait for him on the hallway.  
  
“There you are,” Mary’s soft voice greeted him. Roger smiled and let himself enjoy her soft embrace. “You had me worried yesterday. What happened? I thought maybe you had seen a ghost to run away so enthusiastically.”  
  
Roger shared a look with Freddie, and the other simply shrugged and winked at him. “He’s training for the marathon.” his friend supplied, and if Mary’s face was any clue, she didn’t believe him for a second.  
  
Eventually, Roger shook his head and sighed. “I… Felt sick. I had to throw up and uh— I didn’t want to do it in the middle of the way, you know.” he smiled weakly.  
  
Mary looked at him for a couple of seconds before smiling and nodding. “I get you.” she assured, tenderly squeezing his shoulder. “Let’s go? I hear you have a project to do.”  
  
Roger grunted at the reminder, but yes, he did have a project to finish. They only chatted for a few minutes, all it took for them to reach the lab. Roger sighed dramatically and turned to his friends.  
  
“Kill me?” he pleaded.  
  
“How about we keep that as a last resource in case you don’t graduate?” Freddie smiled, pressing against him so that he had no option but to open the door. “You know, an extreme Plan B.”  
  
Roger huffed. “Fine. But if I die out of boredom, I want you to discover some new, deathly disease and name it after me in my honor.”  
  
He smiled after hearing his friends laugh behind him, but that smile disappeared the moment he laid his eyes on the man who was sitting in one of the tables of the lab. He had a bored expression in his face up until he noticed Roger at the door and his whole face lit up.  
  
Roger’s heart dropped and his stomach turned upside-down. He could feel his heartbeat in his temples, loud and fast, and he was pretty sure his legs would become jelly in about ten seconds. He was also ten seconds away from jumping out one of the windows. Without thinking, he turned around. He was completely ready to leave, once again turning his back on his soulmate, but before he had the opportunity to do so, Freddie stopped him.  
  
“No, Rog, not again.” he heard him say.  
  
“Fred. Fred. _Fred_ , let me go, you have to let me go right now.” he begged while trying to get past him, but Freddie’s grip on his arms was strong and he didn’t accomplish anything other than squirm in his arms.  
  
“You have to face this.” Freddie commanded sternly.  
  
“ _I’m not ready!_ ” he whispered, still trying to get to the door. Finally, Freddie stopped him, gave him a look, and forced him to turn around before taking Mary by the hand and leaving the lab.  
  
Roger stood there, silent and still, for a good minute with his eyes closed, trying to put his thoughts in order. _God, this is a nightmare_ , he thought a second before opening his eyes and facing the other man.  
  
He —his soulmate— was no longer sitting on a table, but standing awkwardly next to it. He had his hands pressed together in a tight fist in front of him, and Roger could see by the way he fiddled with his fingers he was as nervous as himself. He swallowed and cleared his throat, and Roger wasn’t ready for this.  
  
“I… I’m sorry if I surprised you. I didn’t mean to scare you or anything, I just— I asked around if anyone knew where I could find you and uh, one of your classmates was kind enough to tell me you had scheduled a microscope today. She didn’t tell me the hour, though, so I’ve been fooling around for about forty minutes. ” he explained, and then chewed on his lower lip. “Is that creepy?”  
  
Roger didn’t answer, but slowly shook his head. He meant to take a step closer, but couldn’t bring himself to do it because he was standing _right in front of him,_ his _soulmate_ , and he _wasn’t ready for this_.  
  
“I hope you’re okay.” his soulmate continued. “Yesterday… Let’ just say things could have gone better.” he tried with a smile, but Roger only nodded again. His soulmate licked his lips before adding: “Are you okay? You looked, well… terrified. And you don’t look much better right now.  
  
“I was surprised,” he finally spoke, and for a moment he could see his soulmate’s eyes shine with something. He couldn’t try and think about what it could be, because he was too busy focusing on breathing. “I wasn’t expecting to find you yesterday, and…” he stopped himself. Should he say it? Was it a good idea?  
  
“And?” his soulmate asked.  
  
Roger took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “And… I was kinda expecting you to be a girl.” he said, in the most neutral tone he could muster. “I’m straight.”

There was a pause, and Roger could see multiple feelings going through his soulmate’s face: surprise, confusion, disappointment, and some more he didn’t have time to recognise.  
  
“Are you… sure?” he asked, clearly trying not to offend Roger with his question. What was with everyone not taking him seriously when he said he was straight? He wanted to sound a bit offended, but he had no right to: it was only natural his soulmate wanted to make sure.  
  
For some reason he found himself doubting for a second before answering.  
  
“I am.” he maintained. “I’ve always like girls, you know… I’ve never felt any kind of interest for, well— men. So I thought you’d be a girl, and I was shocked, and… and that’s why I ran.” he explained.  
  
A moment passed, and then his soulmate clearly forced himself to smile a little. “I understand. I would’ve been shocked as well. Don’t worry about it.” he reassured, and then ran a hand through his curly hair. Roger was a bit curious over how would it feel like to touch it.  
  
Of course, he didn’t say that. He scratched his nape and avoided the taller man’s gaze. “I just— I just don’t see how this could work. I know this is all about destiny and the universe and all that shit, but… ” he sighed. “But, uhm, you know, Freddie— my friend, he’s been telling me I have to stop running and face my problems, so, well, I—”  
  
“Problems?”  
  
He lifted his gaze to look at his soulmate. He was looking at him with so much hurt in his eyes that for a second Roger wanted nothing else than to hug him and make him feel better. Then, he realised what he had just said.

_You’re a problem. You’re **my** problem._

It took him too long to react, though, and it was too late anyway to pretend he hadn’t said what he had just said.  
  
His soulmate was staring at him with wide eyes and pain written all over his face and knowing it was his fault felt like a punch on the gut. “I think I should go.” he heard him whisper, and before he could react he was already gone. Roger followed him with his eyes, but didn’t move.  
  
Now he knew how it felt to see your soulmate walk away from you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Roger is a dramatic bitch, but, yknow. That's what happens when you think you're straight amarite.
> 
> Let me know if you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

When Roger woke up the next morning, curled up in one side of his bed, the last thing he wanted to do was get out of bed and get ready for the day. He’d very much rather stay in his room all day, all week even, and see the days pass until his neighbours complained about the smell coming from his flat.

He couldn’t do that, of course. He still had projects, and exams, and classes, and a life overall— he couldn’t just let himself die in bed, nevermind how enticing the possibility sounded. Freddie would never let him, anyway.

He allowed himself to linger a bit more in bed, scratching a few more minutes to the clock, until Tim knocked on his door.

“Yeah?” he asked, his voice muffled by the pillow.

He heard the door open, and Tim’s head poked in. “You okay?”

“Mhmm.”

“Okay. It’s just— you’re usually up by now complaining about cold coffee or something.” he explained, and leaned against the doorframe. “You don’t _look_ okay.”  
  
He bit back a groan. “Well, I _am_ okay.” he insisted, and winced at how defensive his words had sounded. He tried again, tried to come up with an excuse. “It’s morning, and you know I don’t like mornings.”   
  
Tim took a closer look to Roger’s face and his brow furrowed. “Have you been crying?” he asked, concern tinting his voice.

“Get out, Tim.”  
  
“Do you need something?”  
  
“Yes. I need you to get out.”

“Okay, but can I do something for you? I don’t know, some tea?”  
  
Roger sighed. “You know, there _is_ one thing you could do for me.” he corrected while sitting up, resting his back against the headboard.

“Yeah, just tell me.” Tim nodded, looking expectantly at Roger.

“Get out.”

There was a pause, and then Tim sighed, said he was off to work, wished him a good day and left. Roger was left alone once again, _exactly how he wanted to be_.

He ran a hand through his face and decided he should at least take a shower and go to school— only so Freddie wouldn’t worry. He had no intention of taking notes or paying any attention to any of his professors, but he at least could try to pretend it was a day just like the others. Like he hadn’t lost his soulmate the day before, like he hadn’t condemned himself to a life of sadness and loneliness and regret because he had pushed his soulmate away.

What was he supposed to do, anyway? He didn’t like dudes. Except— last night he had a rather vivid dream with his soulmate, whose name he didn’t know yet, and he had woken up in the middle of the night with a tiny problem between his legs. _Well—_ not so tiny.

All he could remember were his hands, his long fingers, his lips touching him everywhere and making him feel like a teenager having his first sexual experience. His body was burning in pleasure and he wanted more, more, _more_ . It felt amazing, natural, _real—_ until he (his dream self) had pushed his soulmate away from him and started running towards a door. Then, he opened the door and took a step inside, only to start falling into an empty, dark and never-ending whole.

Really, even in dreams he was a fucking coward.

 _What’s done it’s done,_ he thought to himself while drying his hair with a towel. _I can’t take back what I said or what I did. I didn’t want to be with him anyway, so it doesn’t matter._ He suddenly stopped and dropped the towel to stare at himself in the mirror, only half-done with the job. He bit his lip until his eyes watered and pressed his lips together tightly.

“Do I really believe that?” he whispered, hoping his reflection would give him some kind of answer. It didn’t. Mirror Roger was just as clueless as real Roger was.

He took a deep breath and started to get dressed, giving up on his hair. The cold winter air would do the job, anyway. He didn’t have much time left if he didn’t want to be late, so he rushed through the door and hurried to get to the buss. He didn’t feel the desire to strangulate the driver for his slow driving, but it wasn’t because he was having a good day this time. He was lost in his thoughts.

_He has crazy hair. I’ve never seen a white guy with such curly hair. Maybe it’s not natural, maybe he goes to a hair salon to get it done._

For some reason, the idea of his soulmate’s head full of hair rollers seemed like the funniest thing ever. It was, at least for a few seconds, right before he remembered he had lost him because of his own doing.

It’s not that he was being overdramatic. He could feel it. That somewhat bond that had formed between the two of them after they first met was gone, that strange feeling in his chest, that warm tingle on his hip— all gone. And it was his fault.

He got off the bus, the fur of his coat protecting him from the cold. He found Freddie talking with one of his classmates, John, and his girlfriend Ronnie. They were possibly the cutest, healthiest and most disgustingly romantic couple Roger had ever met. A couple of days ago he probably would have pictured himself in that same position: with an arm around his soulmate’s waist as she gently leaned against him. Now, however, the sweet sight only made his stomach twist and turn in an unpleasant way.

For a second, he envied John. He and Ronnie met on the second day of school two years ago, and ever since they bumped into each other on the hallway they had been inseparable. Roger knew he didn’t have any right to be jealous, though, because he had fucked his life up by himself and there was no one else to blame. Still, they looked cute, and for a moment his mind wandered back to his soulmate. He wondered how it would be to hold him, to hear him breathe, to press him close; was he a cuddler? Did he wear perfume? Did he enjoy public demonstrations of affection or was he more on the private side? He was tall, way taller than himself— would that mean he would be the one to wrap an arm around Roger and press him close? Would he _like_ that? He definitely wanted to find out.

Once he recovered his composure, he got a bit closer to his friends and smiled a little to John while gesturing towards Freddie, who was turning his back on him. John smiled, nodded and said something to Freddie, who then turned around and noticed Roger. He lifted his hand asking him to wait, and Roger busied himself with an app while he waited for Freddie to finish whatever story he had been telling to the couple. Not three minutes later, they waved goodbye and Freddie walked up to him.

“You look like shit.” was Freddie’s way of saying hello.

“I _feel_ like shit.” he agreed.

His friend let out a sad coo and wrapped him with his arms, hugging him tight and nice for at least ten seconds before stepping back.

“Everything will be alright, darling.” he whispered, and God, did Roger want to believe him.

Three hours later, when it was almost lunch time, Roger just couldn’t take it anymore. He had to go hide inside a bathroom _again_ , because the pain in his chest and the tremor in his hands and the constant throbbing of his heart in his temples was too much.

Every time someone opened a door, every time he stepped into a room, every time he heard someone talking, he raised his head hoping it would be him. _He_ would be opening that door, _he_ would be sitting in one of the chairs, _he_ would be saying something. He was losing his mind, and he couldn’t go home because then he’d feel even worse for not putting enough effort into his classes, but he was feeling like shit and he was dizzy, and had he eaten breakfast? Did he have dinner last night? When was the last time he ate something? God, he was a fucking mess, wasn’t he? No wonder the universe punished him with a soulmate that didn’t work out, why would he deserve any better? He hoped his soulmate would be luckier and at least find someone better that actually could make him happy, and not a self-destructive mess like him. He deserved it, he had done nothing wrong… He had even made the effort to track him down when he didn’t even know his name.

A moment passed, and the gears in Roger’s brain started to move. He had found him without knowing his name. His soulmate had found him… he said he had asked around some of his classmates. And then he had found him.

He got out of the stall where he had been comfortably panicking and called Freddie, who picked up after the third ring.

“Rog? Are you already in the cafeteria?”

“No, no, I’m in the bathroom. Listen, Fred—”

“Why are you calling me from the bathroom?” his friend interrupted. “Which bathroom? Do you need me to—”

“Jesus, Fred, shut up and listen. I need to find him. I need to find him and fix this, because I’m going crazy _and don’t ask who am I talking about because you know perfectly who I’m talking about._ ” he ignored Freddie’s whispered “I wasn’t going to ask that”, which sounded like total bullshit, and kept talking. “So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to skip lunch, go to the Linguistics Department, and start asking everyone from the Literature Department if they know someone who fits his description. I mean, how many people with that hair and height can there be, right? And then we’ll find him and I’ll talk to him and _I’ll fix this._ ”

“Why are you so sure he’s studying literature?” Freddie asked.

“I don’t know, he just looks like a literature student.” he shrugged. “Will you help me?”  
  
“Is my name Freddie Fucking Mercury?”

“Well, technically—”

“Yes, I will help you, blondie.”

“Okay cool. See you in ten minutes.” he hung the call and stared at himself in the mirror. “You’re gonna fix this. You’re gonna find him and apologise and everything will be alright.” he whispered, trying not to listen the little voice in his head that kept reminding him maybe his soulmate would not want to see him. “He’ll forgive you. He’s your soulmate.” he took a deep breath and splashed some water in his face before leaving the bathroom.

Turns out it isn’t as easy as it seems to find someone when you don’t know their name. Some people seemed to know who they were talking about but ended up being someone else, and most people straight up didn’t recognise their description.

“He’s so tall. How can no one know who I’m talking about?” Roger complained while angrily slurping from a juice box.

“Maybe he’s incredibly discrete, or likes to go unnoticed.” Freddie offered. Roger didn’t answer, but stared at the grass beneath them with a frown.

“You’d think someone would recognise him. Someone.” he mumbled.

Freddie sighed and patted his friend’s back. They were both exhausted, truth be told, after spending hours going from room to room, from department to department, with no result at all. After another negative from a group of Classic Literature students, Freddie offered to sit on the campus grass and rest. And then he pulled out two tiny juice boxes from his backpack, and Roger’s anger had mitigated a bit. (But only a bit, because they were pineapple flavoured and he liked the grape ones better).

“We can try again tomorrow. We haven’t checked the Department of Philosophy yet, who knows? Maybe he’s a fan of Socrates or Plato or whatever.” he offered with a small smile, trying to cheer his friend up. He had started his hunt with so much energy, so sure they would find him, and now he looked like a deflated balloon.

Roger sighed and stopped munching on the straw. “I guess.” he murmured.

Freddie let out a pained sound. “Oh, don’t be like that, dear. You look like a depressed duckling, it’s honestly breaking my heart.” he slided closer to Roger and wrapped his shoulders with his arm. “You’ll see, darling, we’ll find him. We can hang “WANTED” posters all over the school with his description if he doesn’t show up. You know, the whole “Have you seen me?” thing they do with missing pets?”  
  
Roger laughed a bit and sighed. “You know, I consider that a terrible idea _now_ , but something tells me I might think it over tomorrow if we don’t find him.”


	4. Chapter 4

That morning he woke up in a slightly better mood than the one before. He felt like he had more energy, a reason to get out of bed other than _Freddie will kill me if I die of starvation_. He had even made some coffee for Tim, who had eyed him suspiciously before accepting the drink, as if he couldn’t believing that was the same man that had almost bit his head off the day before.

He had hope. Hope he’d find his soulmate, he’d figure a way to fix that mess, he’d have a chance with him. Sure, it was still a bit weird for him to think of being with a man, and he wasn’t nowhere near sure about being in a romantic relationship with him, but he _knew_ he wanted him in his life. Ever since that deep, kinda weird bond between them had disappeared he had been feeling as if he was missing something, as if he wasn’t entirely complete. He had never felt that way before, not even with his nastiest breakup, and he didn’t like it one bit. He wanted to be full again, to be completed.

He stared at his cup of coffee and absentmindedly wished Tim a good day as his roommate walked through the door. He started wondering. If he was feeling that way when he had been the one to fuck things up, how must his soulmate be feeling? He had been the rejected one, after all.

_I wonder how he’s doing._

Not a second after he formed that sentence in his mind, a crushing and demolishing feeling of sadness overcame him. He let out an anguished cry and desperately grabbed the kitchen table so as not to fall to his knees. He felt like his heart was being torn apart and ripped off from his chest, all while the left side of his ribcage was on fire. Tears started to run down his face, and he felt so inconsolably lonely for a moment that he thought he _was_ actually alone in the world instead of sharing it with seven billion people.

Eventually his legs gave up and he fell to the ground, but he was way too busy trying to remember how to breathe to notice. He was in so much pain his brain seemed to forget how to make his lungs function. He clutched his chest, sweaty and desperate, and tried to force himself to _stop crying_ , but it was as if his body was no longer his.

He stayed there for about ten minutes, crying and wailing and feeling like he was about to faint, when it finally started to subside. Five more minutes and he could breathe almost normally, he no longer felt his chest had been torn apart and he was at last able to stop crying.

Slowly, he lay on the kitchen floor, sprawled out and too confused and distressed to think of a rational way to explain what had just happened— his mind was completely blank. As his body started to recompose from the trauma, he pressed his hand to his chest, right a bit below from his heart. At first he had thought his heart was what was causing him so much pain, but no; it had been that space between the fourth and fifth rib that had been on _flames_.

Only when he heard the alarm on his phone go off (a _just in case_ he had for the days he “forgot” to leave home on time) did he notice he was still on the planet Earth, more specifically on his kitchen floor, and that he was going to be late for school. Without giving it much more thought, he got up (his legs were a bit shaky, truth be told), grabbed his stuff and hurried to get out. Only when he was already on the bus did he think about it again. He still had no explanation.

_What the hell was that?_

  
  


All things considered, and given how the universe was kicking him in the butt repeatedly that week, Roger shouldn’t be surprised they didn’t find his soulmate after their second day of hunting. At first his intention was to skip class to look for him, but Freddie convinced him otherwise, reminding him that if he was a student he would be in class himself and he wouldn’t be able to find him anyways. _And it’s not like you get good enough grades to allow yourself to skip some classes_ , he added after Roger’s insistence, like the good, caring friend he was. Stupid Freddie with his stupidly reasonable and sensible arguments.

He hadn’t told Freddie about his incident in the kitchen, mostly because he didn’t want to worry his friend but also because he didn’t know how to explain it. _Yeah, I felt like I was dying but like, I also felt very sad and I was crying a lot, and see this part right here? Yeah, it burned like a bitch. Weird, right?_

He didn’t feel like he could put that in words, and he rathered not think too much about it, so he just didn’t comment anything and focused on finding his soulmate.

“I don’t understand. Did he— did he _vanish_ ?” he asked after getting out of the Linguistics Department. They had both finished their classes an hour ago and had started looking for him right away to no avail. “Did I _imagine_ he was there? But you saw him too, right? He exists. He isn’t a product of my imagination. And why on Earth would I make that up— make _him_ up? It makes no sense. He has to exist, he has to be somewhere, he— he has to. Maybe he takes night classes? But then why would he be on the copy room in the morning? Or maybe he changed schools. Maybe he doesn’t want to see me ever again and he hates me that bad he’s willing to go to another school on the middle of the year. But changing schools takes time, right? And he’d have to do paperwork, so he’d have to come back, and we would have seen him, so he has to be here, _he has to_ , he—”

“Rog, I feel like I have to tell you I stopped listening a minute ago.” Freddie deadpanned while pocketing his phone. Under other circumstances Roger would get mad at him for not paying attention, but truth be told, he had been babbling a bit. (But only a bit, because all those were very valid arguments).

“Right. I’ll shut up. We can… we can check again on the dorms? Maybe he’s visiting someone, or… maybe…” his voice died down as he spoke, and so did his confidence. To be fair, he hadn’t felt any confident about finding him ever since he got out of the bathroom the day before. His eyes started to sting, and he knew he sounded desperate, he _knew_ it and _hated_ himself for it, but he just couldn’t help it. He _was_ desperate.

The thing is, he didn’t know for sure what he wanted with his soulmate. He knew they were supposed to be perfect for each other and all that romantic rubbish, but he also had never thought of men that way. It’s not that he thought it was impossible for someone to think they’re straight only to turn out gay or bisexual or whatever other option— his best friend was the living proof that stuff could happen. It’s just he wasn’t sure he’d want to, you know, _kiss_ his soulmate or do _other things_ with him. He had always been a very touchy person when it came to relationships, and the physical side meant a lot to him. When he dated a girl _of course_ he wasn’t _just_ physically attracted to her, but— _yes_ , sex was a very important part of his romantic relationships. And he was scared he wouldn’t want it with someone with whom he was supposed to share his life.

Luckily, Freddie was there to stop him from spiraling down. He clasped his shoulders and smiled, all teeth and energy. “Of course, darling. That’s actually a good idea. Let’s check again.”

Roger smiled again and nodded, because what was there to lose?

  
  


“Sorry.”

“No, sorry for bothering you. Thank you anyways.”

Freddie sighed and closed the door after smiling sympathetically to the girl. He didn't know how many study sessions he had interrupted with a knock and a rather weird question without the proper context. _No, I don’t know his name, but he’s like this tall and has crazy curly hair. Have you seen him?_ He felt like he had said those words so many times in the period of an hour and a half, they would hunt him in his sleep.

He checked the hour in his phone. It was getting late. And it was winter, so there would be close to no light within the next thirty minutes. And he still had a design to finish once he got home, and he wanted to take a shower and cuddle a bit with Delilah and Romeo, and he was honestly tired. From the corner of his eye he saw Roger approach him, and one didn’t have to be a detective to know he hadn’t found any clue.

“No luck, huh?” he asked when the blond reached his side.

Roger shook his head. “No one knows him. Is he a fucking ghost, or what?”

“Let’s not go back to those theories.” Freddie sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “Maybe we should try again tomorrow. The students from the night turn won’t take long to arrive, and I don’t think we should trouble those sleepless souls with weird questions.” he remarked, getting his phone from his pocket. “They usually look like zombies, have you noticed?” he joked with a smile while answering a text from his roommate, who asked if he would be home for dinner. After sending his reply, he noticed Roger hadn’t replied anything and looked back at him.

He looked like he was about to cry, but he was pressing his lips together so tight they were nothing but a fine line to hold back the tears. Freddie’s heart broke when he heard how tiny and fragile his voice sounded.

“I’ve… I’ve lost him, haven’t I?” he whispered, his eyes fixed in the notebook in his hands (which he had been using to write down the dorms they had already checked as to not repeat the same questions to the same unfortunate students). He was gripping it so hard his knuckles turned white.

“No, no, Rog, you haven’t lost him. He’s just hard to find, but that’s— that’s the whole thing about soulmates! They are hard to find.” he tried with a smile, tenderly cupping his face.

“But I _had_ found him. The first time, I had found him. He was there, and I—” he closed his eyes and shook his face to get rid of Freddie’s hold. “Let’s just leave, Fred. This was stupid— to think I could find him. He doesn’t want to be found, or the universe doesn’t want me to find him, or maybe this is my punishment, I don’t care, but I’m tired and I want to go home.” his voice cracked with that last sentence, but he had already started to walk and Freddie could do nothing but follow his friend.

They were close to the exit when Roger stopped on his track. “Shit,” he whispered. He turned around and looked at Freddie. “I have to return a book to the library. Today’s the last day if I don’t want to lose my membership card.”

“Don’t you have like some extra allowance if you return a book a bit late or something?”

Roger opened his backpack and put the notebook inside before taking out the book. Freddie barely had time to read the title, something about microscopic life or something scientific like that. In other words, a printed headache. “Uh, yeah, usually you do, but this is like the second limit day they give me and like… the fifth time I return a book late.” he admitted and smiled sheepishly, his face instantly flushing. “So, they gave me a warning. I have to return it now, but you can go if you want, it’s fine.”  
  
Freddie studied his face for a few seconds before shaking his head. “No way, blondie. You’re stuck with me until I see your small butt get on the bus.”

The smile that Roger gave him was proof enough to know he didn’t actually want him to leave.

As they made their way to the library they eventually passed in front of _the_ copy room. Instantly, Roger tensed up and all the easiness and mood improvement Freddie had accomplished to build up with some stupid anecdote disappeared. He knew for a fact he was no longer listening to him, he was looking forward and the look on his face screamed despair. After a few seconds, Freddie stopped talking and Roger didn’t even seem to notice.

As the minutes passed, Roger ended up breaking into sobs. He was hugging the book in his arms as if it was the only thing holding him together, and he was clearly trying not to cry but failing miserably.

“I—I’m sorry. I just, I just started thinking and—” he tried to explain, but resumed crying mid sentence. Freddie shushed him and caressed his back.

“You don’t have to explain yourself, Rog. I know. It’s okay. Do you want me to return the book? You can wait here and calm a bit.” he offered. They were right in front of the library, barely a few meters from the entrance.

“No, I— I’m fine. It’s fine. I can do it.” he sniffled. “It’s just a book. I don’t think the librarian is going to judge me for crying like a baby, I’ve seen her cry while reading _Frankenstein_ when she thought no one was around.”

“What, the book about the monster who kills a little boy?” Freddie asked incredulously, eyebrows raised.

Roger looked at him for a few seconds, sniffled and said: “He was a victim, Fred.”

Freddie rolled his eyes and nudged his friend with a smile before taking him by the hand and resuming their pace.

Roger was still sobbing when they walked through the glass doors, and Freddie felt the need to stroke his friend’s hair softly in a rather poor attempt to calm him down.

“I’m fine,” he promised while furiously wiping his tears away with the back of his hand. “I’m just— God, I’m such a fucking idiot!” he yelled, and luckily it seemed there was no one around, not even the usual old lady who would shush them every time they raised their voices a bit. “I find my soulmate and what do I do? Say “no, thank you” and leave as if he was a fucking seller on the street. And, and then when I try to find him _do I succeed_ ? Or do I _fail spectacularly_ ?” Roger was aware he shouldn’t be speaking so loud, not in a library and specially not when he was heading towards the reception desk where the old lady who cried with _Frankenstein_ would kick him out for not respecting the rules. But he didn’t even care anymore.

In fact, he was too upset to notice Freddie had stopped following him a couple of seconds ago and had a bewildered expression on his face.

“Most people lose a pet, or a pen, or a wallet, but what do I lose? I lose my fucking soulmate!” he turned to Freddie mid track when he didn’t hear his steps behind him, and he stared at him with a pained, angry and broken look in his face, but his brain was way too busy suffering to think about why his friend had stopped walking. “I lost my soulmate! And I lost him because I’m a mess, a stupid, massive, insensitive mess who doesn’t know how to hold a conversation without hurting someone. ” he cried, tears sliding down his face again. He let them fall for a few seconds, staring at his friend while breathing heavily, before he started to wipe them away and started walking almost completely backwards to keep looking at Freddie as he spoke. “But it’s fine, you know? It’s better this way. ” he mumbled, still using his sleeve to dry off the tears. God, _they just didn’t stop flowing_. Eventually, he bumped his butt against the reception desk. “He’ll be happy with someone else, someone who isn’t a fucking idiot like me.” he nodded as if trying to convince himself (quite uneffectively).

He took a deep breath and turned around to leave the book on the reception desk with a loud _thud_ , not even bothering to look at the old lady (he already knew she would be scolding him with her eyes for yelling, so why bother). He mindlessly opened his backpack to look for his membership card. “Hi, I’d like to return this book.” he mumbled between sobs. After a few seconds of fumbling with all the spare papers and notebooks, he gave up. “I can’t find my card, is it okay if I give you my ID?” he asked, and only then moved his gaze from his backpack to the person standing in front of him on the other side of the counter.

His hair was still ridiculously curly, and his pretty, surprised eyes were staring at him as if he was a newly discovered continent. Roger opened his mouth to say something, but his brain was empty.

After what felt like a hundred years, his soulmate cleared his throat and took the book. “You can give me your ID.” he said in a low, collected tone. His voice was so soft. And his hair looked so soft as well. Roger still wanted to know how it felt to touch it.

Instead, he closed and opened his mouth a few times before finally snapping out of it. He finally caught his breath and rebooted his brain. “I— I’ve been looking for you.” he mumbled, his voice barely higher than a whisper.

His soulmate looked at him dead in the eye for a couple of seconds. “Why?” there wasn’t confusion in his voice; he sounded more like he didn’t actually want to have this conversation.

Roger swallowed with some difficulty and tried to find his voice. “To… to apologise. I— I didn’t mean to hurt you, I… I was confused. I never meant to push you away.” his voice still cracked here and there because of the prior crying, but at least he could form complete, meaningful sentences.

His soulmate stared at him for a few seconds before nodding. “I accept your apology. Can you give me your ID, please?”

Roger was _so confused_ , and _so tired_ , and _so emotional_ , that he didn’t even process his question. “Really? You— you forgive me?” he asked, a small smile forming in his face. The other man nodded again and Roger felt like he was on cloud nine. “You— oh, God. I thought you’d never want to see me again or—”

“I don’t.”

Roger’s heart stopped for a second, and then two, and three, and was it even beating anymore? He didn’t really care, because after hearing those words he was as good as dead. His face was filled with confusion. “But you just said…”

“I said I accept your apology. But I’d rather never see you again.” he explained. “I’m not a masochist, and I feel like seeing you every now and then, pretending we’re not what we are, would cause me too much pain. So yes, I’d prefer it if we never crossed paths again.”

Roger felt like he had been kicked on the gut, buried alive and cremated, all at the same time. His heart started to race and he shook his head slightly. “No, you don’t… I… I didn’t mean what I said, really, I just…”

“What part? The part of you being straight?” his soulmate asked with a sharp tone.

“No, well, that… I mean, I guess I did mean that part, but that’s only because I was confused, okay? I’ve liked girls all my life, and I thought my soulmate would be a girl, not a man, so I was _shocked_ and _confused_ and _scared_ . I wanted— I needed a couple of days to wrap my head around the idea, that’s all. To accept that, well, that my soulmate is a guy and— and that that’s fine. I didn’t mean to ignore you forever or something like that, _I just needed a couple of days_ , but then you were there, in the lab, and I… and I’m an idiot. Okay? I’m an idiot.” he sighed deeply, running a hand through his face. “But I— I take it back, okay? I didn’t fully mean it. It just… It works different with you.” he looked at his soulmate with such a pleading look, practically begging him to forgive him, and to be honest, if he asked him to get on his knees and beg he’d probably only hesitate for a second before doing it.

There was a pause, and then his soulmate turned his gaze away from him. “And what about the part about me being a problem? Did you mean that?” he asked in a low, sad tone.

Roger closed his eyes. _Oh, God._ “I said that, didn’t I?” he breathed in such a soft tone the other man probably didn’t even hear him. He opened his eyes and swallowed. “I didn’t mean it, not like that. You’re not a problem. I was talking about the whole situation, the whole _I guess you’re not as straight as you thought you were_ thing, not… Not you. You’re not a problem, I… I didn’t mean it _that way_. I’m so sorry.” he whispered. “I’m so sorry I hurt you.”

Eventually, his soulmate nodded. He didn’t look completely convinced, but he did flash a tiny smile at Roger. “So if I had waited a few days for you to come to me, none of this would have happened?” he asked.

Roger sighed, but smiled. “I don’t know. I’m an idiot. I probably would have messed it up any other way.” he shrugged.

“Yes, you’ve said so quite a few times. You also called yourself a… what was it? “Stupid, massive, insensitive mess”?” he teased. Roger felt his cheeks burn like fire.

“You heard that?” he asked in a thin voice that was barely perceptible.

“How couldn’t I? You were yelling at the top of your lungs.”

“That’s not my full lung capacity, I’ll let you know. And I was— I was sad and frustrated, I thought I had…” he avoided his soulmate’s gaze before daring to say the next words. “...lost you.”

They were both silent for a moment. “We could have had this conversation before if I had known you didn’t think of me as a problem.” his soulmate commented, mindlessly tapping the book’s cover.

“Yeah, don’t you think I tried to find you?” Roger asked with a daring expression, almost offended by the possibility his soulmate thought he hadn’t tried to fix this. He ran a hand through his face and groaned. “God, you work in the _library_ . I can’t believe I’ve spent _two days_ looking for you and you worked in the _library_.” his complains, though muffled by his own hand, made his soulmate laugh a little.

“I work here after class.”

“Yeah, _what class_? Because I’ve checked every single Literature Department, every single one, and none of them—”

“Literature? Why Literature?” his brow was furrowed in a perplexed scowl.

“Uhm… Aren’t you a Literature student?” Roger asked, suddenly feeling incredibly embarrassed. His soulmate laughed again.

“Not even close. I study Astrophysics.”

Roger mouthed the word a couple of times before whispering it a couple more, and then finally saying it outloud, growing more and more outraged. He had the most confused, lost expression one could imagine. “So you’re telling me I’ve spent two days— _two days_ visiting every single classroom and dorm from the Literature Department looking for you, _and you weren’t even there_ ? You were at the _other fucking side_ of the campus? _Studying Astrophysics_?”

“Uhm.” his soulmate looked a bit lost, but amused overall. “Yes?”

Roger blinked at him a couple of times before dropping his head on the counter and letting out a frustrated grunt. “I can’t fucking believe it. I can’t believe it!”

He heard his soulmate laugh and raised his head again. “Oh, so you think it’s funny? Do you have any idea how many hours I’ve spent thinking you had vanished from Earth? Of course no one recognised you, now everything makes sense.” he covered his eyes with a hand, sighed, and straightened his back.

His soulmate, the git, was smiling and looked pretty entertained. “Do I look like a literature student? Is that it?”  
  
“Well— yeah!” Roger answered as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “How did you find me in the first place? You didn’t even know my name—”

And then he realised, and gasped.

“I still don’t know your name!” he exclaimed, looking at the other man with wide eyes.

“That’s true.” he nodded, and for a second Roger thought he wasn’t going to tell him. That after all, he prefered to never see him again and the less they knew about each other, the better. “I’m Brian. Brian May.”

Roger released the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. “I’m Roger. Taylor.” he added, and his soulmate —Brian— nodded.

“I know. The girl who told me where to find you showed me the booking list for the microscope and you had put your full name there.”

Roger nodded slowly. Then they were silent for a moment.

“So, uhm… Do you still want to return the book?”

A couple of minutes later, when Roger’s name was no longer on the Red List of the library (apparently it was a real thing, and not just a weird threat the old lady came up with) and he had noticed Freddie’s text saying “I’m hungry af, good luck with ur bae!! u can come to mine if things dont go well, but judging by the way he was looking at u while u complained about everything and cried like a baby i bet u’ll be fine” (plus a winky face), a group of students entered through the doors.

“Those are the night students.” Brian nodded towards them. “My shift finishes in about an hour. It’s getting late, shouldn’t you go back home?” he asked, looking genuinely worried.

Roger chewed on his lower lip while considering it. He was tired. And he did have to finish some homework. And take a shower, and have dinner, but those were minor issues. “I guess I should get going.” he agreed. Except he didn’t want to. He wanted to stay there, with Brian, and hear his voice and his laugh and watch him smile.

Brian must have seen the reluctance on his face, because he leaned forwards on the counter. “Would you like to have a coffee tomorrow, after class?” he asked in a low voice. Maybe it was because now that they weren’t alone they had to be more careful or maybe because he had noticed it made Roger’s legs tremble.

“I’d love to.” he gushed in a faint voice, close to a whisper. Brian smiled and Roger’s heart felt so ready to explode it was ridiculous.

They exchanged numbers and shortly after, Roger waved goodbye. There was a tiny moment where none of them knew if they should hug, shake hands, kiss, or what, but eventually it was Roger who settled for the good old fashioned wave.

He didn’t remember getting home, and didn’t even bother trying to finish his homework because he feared all his answers would be “Brian May” all over and over. He thought of him from the moment he stepped out of the library to the moment he closed his eyes in his bed, and he fell asleep with a nice, warm sensation curling around his chest and a funny tingle on his hip.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I bet you thought Roger wasn't gonna fix this mess and redeem himself
> 
> Let me know if you liked it!


	5. Chapter 5

“Can you stop fidgeting?”

Roger stopped moving and shifting around in his seat only to, three seconds later, start bouncing his leg. Freddie let out a frustrated grunt and ran a hand through his face. They were both on the bus on their way to the coffee shop where Roger was to meet with Brian, only because Roger had begged him to come home with him after class and help him choose an outfit. Brian had texted Roger to tell him he’d get out of work around six, and then told him he knew a nice cafe they could go to. The blond had replied perhaps too enthusiastically, too quickly and too cheerfully, but he was too ecstatic to worry about it. He was going  _ on a date _ . With  _ Brian _ . His  _ soulmate _ .

He had to bite his fist in order to suppress a squeal.   


“Seriously Rog, can you, like. Stop?” Freddie complained.   


Roger looked at him and bit his lip while shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I can’t. I’m just—”   
  
“I know, Rog, my love, I know, and I can’t express in words how happy I am for you, but if you don’t stop moving right now I’ll be forced to cut off your legs and that would ruin the outfit we’ve put so much effort on. So, stop.”   


Roger stopped moving.   


For about five minutes, and then started repeatedly tapping his foot again.   


When they arrived at their stop, Freddie almost seemed more excited to get out of the bus than Roger. “Finally!” he exclaimed, and then turned around to look at his friend, who was checking his phone. “I told you we’d be early.”   
  
Roger glanced at him. “I didn’t want to be late.”

“And now you’ll have to wait for thirty minutes.”

“It would have been so rude.”

“All because you didn’t listen.”

Roger shushed his friend and pocketed his phone after informing Brian he was already there, but that he didn't have to hurry.

“Are you sure you can’t stay?” Roger pouted, grabbing Freddie’s arm while blinking repeatedly in an exaggerated attempt to convince him to change his mind. Freddie burst out laughing and released his friend’s grip.

“Nu-uh, blondie. I still have things to do. I’ve been so busy with your dramas these past few days now I have a shit ton of work to finish.”

“Okay then. Have fun with your work. I’ll have fun with my date.” Roger smiled.

“I didn’t realise you were such a little shit.” Freddie said while bringing a hand to his chest, sounding genuinely surprised.

“Aw,  _ bullshit _ . We wouldn’t be friends if you didn’t.”

They both laughed, but then Roger sniggered “Come here, you twat” and hugged him tight. When they were both enveloped in each other’s arms, Roger let out a shaky breath. Immediately, Freddie stroked his back softly.

“Are you nervous?” he asked in a whisper.

“My legs are pure jelly right now. If you let me go I’ll straight up fall on my knees.” he mumbled, pressing his forehead against Freddie’s shoulder.

“There’s no need to be nervous. Everything will be alright. Even if it turns out to be the worst date ever, it can’t possibly be worse than your first meeting, can it?”

Roger was silent for a moment. “I kind of hate that you are right, because you’re an absolute dumbass and I hate you, but I guess you  _ are  _ right.”

Freddie’s laugh deafened Roger. “Of course I am.” he smirked before letting go of his friend. They talked for a few more minutes, but eventually Freddie had to go.

Once he lost sight of him, Roger took a look around him and saw a music shop next to the cafe where they were supposed to meet. Oh, well, he did have about twenty minutes to kill, and a tiny look wouldn’t kill him.

He crossed the road and stopped in front of the shop window, staring with interest at the guitars and basses that were exposed. A red bass drum accompanied by two toms, though, got his attention. He missed his old drum kit, he missed playing music, but after starting to study biology he quickly noticed how impossible it was to keep up with the classes and his hobby. The rhythm in which the professors moved from unit to unit wasn’t even close to normal, and he struggled to keep up with the rest of the class. He had to force himself to accept he had to leave the drums behind if he wanted to graduate.

He bent a bit forward and rested the palms of his hands on his knees to get a better look at the drum kit. It wasn’t complete, but it was pretty. He had sold most of his to afford all the textbooks he had to buy for class, but still kept his drumsticks. He would sometimes close his eyes and pretend to play for a bit, reproducing the sounds in his mind. It was lame, he knew it, but sometimes it was his only way to avoid jumping off a building.

“See something you like?” a voice popped up out of the blue, and Roger’s heartbeat knew who it was before his brain did. He turned around and smiled, though there was a faint blush in his cheeks.

“You’re early.” he pointed out. He shouldn’t talk about being early, but Brian wasn’t supposed to get out of work in about fifteen more minutes. How was he there already?

The taller man shrugged. “I asked for a favour and rushed a bit.” he explained, and by the way he avoided Roger’s eyes, he could tell he was a bit embarrassed himself. Roger found it impossibly adorable and was unable to stop the smile that started spreading across his face. After a few seconds Brian mirrored him. Eventually they both chuckled at their own idiocy, and Brian was the first one to behave like a proper human being once again.

“Do you play something?” he asked, pointing at the instruments in display with a nod.

“No,” Roger replied instinctively, used to hide his old hobby, but then thought about it and saw the absurdity of lying. He was his soulmate, he’d find out eventually anyway. “Well... yes. I mean, I know how to play the drums and I used to play, but, uhm— I don’t anymore.”

Brian hummed and tilted his head. “You got bored?”

Roger shook his head vigorously. “No way. I just… had to put my priorities straight.” he shrugged and looked away, back to the drumset. Thankfully, Brian sensed how little he wanted to talk about that particular topic and quickly changed the subject.

“I was thinking we could get some take away coffee and go for a walk, if you’d like.”

Roger nodded so fast and so hard he could have sweared he heard his neck snap.

Once they got some coffee (Brian liked it sweet, but “with no whipped cream or sparkles or any of that weird things”) they started walking down the street. At first it was a bit awkward, because none of them knew how to start a conversation without making it tense or weird— the typical “Nice weather, ey?” wouldn’t do it. But then Roger tripped with a small whole on the pavement, which caused him to spill a bit of coffee on his shirt, and he started whispering a series of curses his mother wouldn’t be proud to hear while he tried to wipe it off. Brian snickered and advised him to stop rubbing the stain or it would be worse, and Roger’s mouth betrayed him.

“But it took me  _ so long _ to pick up this outfit and now it’s  _ ruined _ , it’s not  _ fair _ .” he complained, still maneuvering to hold the coffee while trying to get rid of the stain.

“And why did it take you so long?”

Roger didn’t see Brian’s smile, since he spoke with his lips hid behind his own coffee as he pretended to take a sip, but he  _ knew  _ he was smiling, he  _ knew  _ he was amused, just as he  _ knew  _ he was blushing because he could feel his cheeks grow hot. Roger’s eyes darted to Brian’s for a second before turning his focus to his drink, and shrugged, trying to play it cool. (He couldn’t, not when his face was a tomato and he had just said that, but he  _ tried _ ).

Brian chuckled and shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. You look very nice.” he assured, looking at Roger with a comforting glint in his eyes.

Roger smiled a bit and stared at his coffee. “Thanks. You look great too.” he mumbled. And then they both blushed, but after that there were no more awkward moments.

An hour and a half later, coffees long consumed and most basic topics entertained (tell me about you, about your life, what do you like to do, your family, your friends, your pets, how many cracks are there in your bedroom ceiling… typical stuff), they were taking a walk in a park as Brian talked about why he chose Astrophysics as a career. Their arms would brush from time to time and Roger’s heartbeat hadn’t been stable for the last thirty minutes.

“And, well, there’s this exposition about supernovas this weekend, it looks pretty interesting and, I don’t know, I was wondering if you’d like to come? With me?”

Roger looked up to see Brian’s face, who was clearly making an effort to not look away, and smiled from ear to ear. “That sounds amazing.”

Brian let out a relieved sigh (had he really thought he’d say no?) and smiled. “There will also be an exposition about DNA, I believe. We could visit both if you’d like.”

“ _ Uh _ . DNA. Well, that doesn’t sound as interesting as the supernova thing but, sure, if you want to go I’m up.” Roger shrugged. He didn’t really care what they were doing as long as he ensured himself a next date with Brian.

Brian frowned slightly and tilted his head. “You study Biology, so I thought you’d be interested in it. We don’t have to go if you don’t want to.”

Roger opened his mouth and closed it a second later. That was so incredibly sweet, and he did want to spend as much time as possible with Brian, but he would much rather spend his time with him not thinking about his studies.

“To be honest, I’d prefer if we did something different. I don’t know, we can have lunch after the space exposition.”

Brian nodded, and took a moment to carefully choose his next works. “I hope you don’t mind me asking, and don’t feel compelled to answer, but you’re not exactly passionate about Biology, are you?”

Roger didn’t answer right away. He took a look around, saw a bird starting to build a nest and a dog chasing a ball, and then shook his head ever so slightly. “I hate it.” he mumbled, staring a the grass.

Brian didn’t press him any further, and Roger, who had been expecting the whole interrogation ( _ Why did you start the career then? Why don’t you drop out? Why do you hate it? Is it too difficult for you? _ ), felt like a heavy weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

For the first time, he felt like he could tell someone how he felt about it, someone who wouldn’t judge him or tease him for it or make him feel bad. He took a deep breath and looked up. “I felt like I had to choose something that… that would take me somewhere, you know? And my parents don’t exactly approve of artistic careers, so I just looked up the options and chose the one that sounded vaguely familiar. I had biology in highschool, and I wasn’t half bad.” he kicked a pebble and buried his hands in his pockets. “My parents were  _ so happy _ I was finally going to study something important and leaving that  _ childish dream of becoming a musician _ ,” he quoted, still recalling the first time they had said those words to him. “I couldn’t let them down, you know? So after first year I took another one, and then another, and by now I guess it’s too late to drop out.” he swallowed, feeling slightly choked up, and stared at the ground. “Or maybe I’m just a coward, I don’t know.”

He had never talked about that with anyone, not even Freddie. He had been with him when he had chosen the career and he knew he didn’t like it, but he didn’t know how he  _ felt  _ about all of it.

It felt good to let it out, to have someone to listen by your side. It felt good, but it felt even better when Brian suddenly took his hand and made him stop walking and turn.

“You’re not a coward, Roger.” he declared, and he said it with such conviction it seemed like he had a whole thesis and five years of research to back up his words, “You’ve been trying to make other people happy, and that’s not  _ inherently bad _ — nor does it make you a coward. Your parents worry about you and they want to see you succeed in life like every other parent, but they also have to accept that it’s  _ your  _ life, not theirs.” he continued. Ever so slowly, he started caressing Roger’s hand with his thumb, which elicited goosebumps all over Roger’s body. He was staring at Brian with wide eyes, unable to talk since his throat had gone dry and tight in a moment. “I know it’s hard trying to live to other’s expectations, it’s painful and it drains you emotionally. It straight up  _ sucks _ —,” Unable to stop himself Roger chuckled softly, which made Brian crack a smile. “If you want to drop your studies, drop them. If you don’t want to, don’t. Just keep in mind that what you do with your time  _ and your life _ is yours to decide. Pretending to be happy to please others is just a waste of time and energy. It’s not worth it.  _ Nothing  _ is worth your happiness.”

He squeezed the blond’s hand softly, and smiled a bit. Roger, who seemed to come out of a trance with that smile, blinked once, twice, and by the third time there were tears falling down his cheeks. He covered his face as a reflex, but that didn’t stop the emotions from flowing.

He didn’t notice Brian moving them to a nearby bench and placing a hand on Roger’s knee and the other on his back, giving him time to catch his breath. A couple of minutes later, when he finally started to breathe a bit more normally, Brian took Roger’s hands and slowly, as if he were touching a porcelain doll, lowered them. He took in Roger’s red nose, his puffy eyes, his wet cheeks; then, he started to wipe away the remaining tears with his thumbs, cradling his face with his hands.

“I’m sorry.” Roger whispered. “It’s just— I wasn’t— no one ever—”

Brian nodded and slowly, he leaned in to kiss one of Roger’s last tears. “Whatever it is that you choose, I’d love to be there, by your side.” he whispered, still mere centimeters away from Roger’s face.

Roger sobbed and pressed their foreheads together, bringing both his hands to Brain’s hair and intertwining his fingers with the soft curls. He let go a broken laugh and closed his eyes. “I’ve wanted to touch your hair since we met.” he explained, and Brian’s laugh joined his.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Only one more chapter!
> 
> Let me know if you liked it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp folks! Here's the final chapter! It took me so long to finish because my initial intention was to cut it way shorter than it ended up being. I planned on finishing it a couple of days after my last update but alas, turns out I do not know myself enough. As a compensation, it is way longer than the other chapters. Like, about 15k words long.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy this fluffy, semi-angsty kinda dumb thing!

The first time Roger and Brian tried to kiss was on their ninth date.

They had been having a date per week ever since their first one on the park. They had both agreed to take things slowly, mostly because after the disastrous way their relationship had started, they didn’t want to risk it with any rushed moves. They enjoyed their time together, getting to know each other bit by bit, learning their little quirks and stories with every passing day. In fact, Freddie had started to complain about them being the cheesy ones this time around and accusing Brian of stealing his best friend now that Roger spent every spare minute with him (in between classes, breaks, lunch…). Of course, all his fake anger towards Brian had vanished the day he had introduced them his friend, Jim Hutton, and Freddie had been in a lost of words for the first time since he was born.

(From that day on Roger reminded him on a daily basis how worried he had been about his first words to his soulmate and how nervous he had been about talking to Jim after drooling over him for months— only for his actual first words to be “You have a tomato stain on your shirt”. He’d never let go of that one. Never.)

(Fortunately, Jim was a lovely person and found it hilarious, specially because his first words to Freddie were “Thank you for telling me, you have a beautiful smile” and Freddie felt bad while he thought it was an original first exchange.)

(Jim had also won Roger’s sympathy the day he brought an extra breakfast burrito for him and Freddie because he figured they’d forget to eat until lunch break, and he insisted every meal was very important.)

(Freddie was beaming and glowing every time Roger saw him and he was honestly so happy for him.)

After seeing a movie about an alien invasion and spending the next twenty minutes listening to Brian talk about how and why there should be no sound in scenes that developed in space (to which Roger answered _It’s a movie about aliens that look like robotic octopuses and you’re asking for some kind of verisimilitude?_ ) while having a drink, Roger offered to stop by the Thames and take a walk.

By the time they reached the river they were holding hands and it was Roger’s time to complain. His new neighbours were constantly throwing parties, and he didn’t hate _them_ for it, but he hated _himself_ for sounding like a cranky old man every time he asked them to turn down the music. But what could he do? He had to study.

Brian laughed and pulled him into a half embrace once they reached the river’s railing. “Maybe it’s your punishment for all the times _you_ were the annoying neighbour.” he observed, his arm safely wrapped around Roger.

“I wasn’t— I’ve never—,” Roger took a moment to consider the possibility, and finally offered a shy, tiny smile. “Okay, fair enough. Maybe it is.”

Brian chuckled and pressed him a bit closer, enjoying the warmth of Roger’s arm around his waist. After a few seconds watching the city lights shine on the water, offering a blurred reflection, Roger lifted his head a bit and looked at his soulmate’s soft, relaxed face. _God_ , he was beautiful. He smiled a bit and let out an appreciative hum. Then, Brian noticed his gaze and their eyes met.

“What is it?” he asked in a whisper as if not to break the moment.

Roger shook his head ever so slightly and raised a hand to caress Brian’s cheek. “I’m happy to have you, that’s all.” he answered in the same tone, his eyes never leaving Brian’s, who took a deep breath and looked a bit dumbfounded.

A beat went by and Brian started to bend down a little bit, and then Roger was resting his hands on Brian’s shoulders and standing just the tiniest bit on his tiptoes, just enough for their lips to brush…

Then a group of celebrating men, all dressed in food costumes except for one, who was dressed as a bride, walked by their side. One of them was blasting a Taylor Swift’s song with a speaker and they were all singing, shouting, dancing and being, overall, incredibly nosy.

Roger and Brian shared a look and after a tense second they burst out laughing, Roger holding to the railing and Brian hugging his stomach. Well, the moment was broken, but at least they had a good laugh.

After that, they both agreed on keep walking until they got tired and decided to take the bus to go home.

  
  
  


The first time Roger and Brian kissed was after their twelfth date.

It was past midnight when they reached Roger’s flat. Brian had insisted on coming with him even if it was the direct opposite direction to his apartment, and Roger had only accepted under the premise of taking Brian home after their next date.

“It’s been fun.” the blond smiled once they made it to his building door. “I didn’t know blobfishes looked so different when they’re underwater.”

“It’s because of the extreme tissue damage they go through when being pulled out of water by fishers they look like that. Normally they’re about three thousand feet below sea-level.” Brian explained while carefully ruffling his hair a bit, worried it looked flat because of the light rain. Not that it mattered, anyway, because while the building’s doorway offered a bit of shelter, he would be back under the rain in a moment.

“And when exactly did you become a _fishologist_ , Mr. May?” Roger asked with a raised eyebrow and a smirk pulling his lips.

“About an hour ago, when I read the information signs while you were busy making weird faces to the fishes.”

“ _They_ started looking at _me_ weird.”

“They’re fishes, Rog.”

“ _So?_ ”

Brian chuckled and pulled him in for a hug, which Roger instantly returned. He pressed his nose against his hair and inhaled his scent with his eyes closed, humming.

“Are you sniffing me?” Roger laughed, his voice a bit muffled by Brian’s neck.

“Yes.” he replied without hesitation. “You smell good. Like peach.”

He could actually _feel_ Roger’s laugh this time. Brian smiled and leaned down to press his nose against Roger’s neck and sniff dramatically just to mess with him. Roger laughed loudly, throwing his head back and clutching at Brian’s coat for leverage.

“Okay, not that I don’t like you going all _excited puppy_ on me, but I think we need to stop blocking the door or my landlord will accuse me of being a nuisance for the rest of the community or something like that.”

“But there’s no one coming out. Or in.” Brian pointed out, his arms still wrapped around Roger.

“But there _could be_.” he smirked.

Brian groaned and hugged him tightly, effectively doing the opposite of what Roger had said and pressed his cheek to his temple.

“There, there. If I didn’t know you any better I’d say you don’t want to let go of me.” Roger teased, and Brian could hear more than see his smirk. Still, there was something in his voice that told Brian he was not only amused by his clingy boyfriend, but also a bit delighted.

“I don’t.” he confirmed.

Roger smiled and stroked Brian’s damp curls, massaging his nape for a bit. Then, he put a hand on the other’s chest and pressed softly until he backed off enough so he could see his face. “We’ll see each other tomorrow.” he reminded him with a little smile, and it kind of sounded like a promise. Brian nodded and for a second, he looked like he was going to kiss him. His gaze traveled from his eyes to his lips a few times and even leaned down a bit, and Roger’s breath got caught for a second thinking _this is it, he’s going to kiss me, it’s going to happen, we’re going to finally kiss_ . If he had been reluctant about getting physical with Brian at first, those doubts were no longer there. He wanted Brian, he wanted him with his soul and body, and he wasn’t ready yet to do everything, but a kiss? He was ready for a kiss. _So ready_.

At the last second, though, he seemed to think it over and ended up settling with the forehead. He pressed a soft kiss there, which was adorable and sweet but not what Roger wanted, who had to focus to keep from letting out a disappointed huff.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” he whispered before letting go of Roger and taking a few steps back. He smiled at him and Roger nodded, waving goodbye. Then he turned around and started walking down the road.

Roger’s body was still warm. He could still feel his arms around him, his breath against his neck. He could still feel the pressure of his lips against his skin, just _not where he wanted it, and he wanted it_ so bad _—_

“Brian!”

His boyfriend immediately turned around, surprised. Before he could reconsider it, Roger took a deep breath and started running towards him, reaching him in no time. Brian took his hands off his pockets and put his arms around Roger, pressing him to his chest the second their bodies met. They stumbled a bit backwards, but before Brian could say anything Roger wrapped his arms around his neck and brought him down for a kiss. He tangled his fingers in his hair the moment he felt Brian’s lips move against his and simply dissolved into the kiss. They ignored everything that wasn’t each other’s lips, hands, sounds, heartbeats.

Brian’s fingers tightened in Roger’s hips and, in retaliation, he pulled on his soft curls a bit. He could feel Brian’s smile against his mouth, he could feel his laugh against his lips, he could taste him and feel him and it felt like eating your favourite dessert after years of fasting.

They didn’t know how long they stood there, like two idiots, under the rain in the middle of the street, but by the time they broke the kiss (or rather, when Roger’s tiptoes started to hurt and he let himself drop down, unconsciously drawing away from Brian’s lips and thus breaking the kiss) they were both positively wet.

They breathed against each other’s mouths for a few minutes, taking it all in, processing what had probably been the best kiss they ever had, before Brian opened his eyes and smiled. He brought a hand to Roger’s cheek and slowly caressed his cheekbone with his thumb.

“You don’t know how happy I am you did that.” he confessed in no more than a whisper.

Roger hummed and pressed their noses together, giving Brian a slow Eskimo kiss that made him chuckle. “I couldn’t hold it any longer.” he purred.

Brian smiled widely and kissed him again.

Needless to say, they both woke up with a cold the morning after.

  
  
  


The first time Roger and Brian saw each other naked was three months into their relationship.

They had seen each other with _close to no clothes_ at all a few times already. The first time being when Roger stayed over at Brian’s flat for the first time and the two agreed that they preferred to sleep in their underwear. Roger had always been a “the less, the better” kind of person and didn’t waste any money on pyjamas, but Brian confessed he had always slept with at least a pair of sweatpants on when Roger asked him about it the morning after.

“But I wanted to feel you. You’re incredibly warm, did you know that?” he asked with his mouth full of toast.

Needless to say, Roger’s face resembled a tomato for the rest of the meal.

The first time they saw each other _completely_ naked, though, was after a date to the market was canceled due to a downpour that caught them completely off guard. They rushed to Roger’s apartment since it was closer, and tried not to make a big mess with their dripping clothes.

“God, I’m freezing.” he complained while hanging their coats on a hanger by the bathroom door. That was where the bathrobes were supposed to go, but neither he nor Tim bought any ever since they moved in despite constantly saying _We have to buy bathrobes!_ , so they had been pretty useless up until that moment. “We can take a warm shower and then cuddle on the couch, what do you say?” he asked before using Brian’s shoulders for leverage as he leaned up to kiss his lips.

Brian hummed in agreement and pinched softly his side, making sure they didn’t stay there making out in the middle of the bathroom. “You go in first, I’ll make sure we didn’t make a huge mess on the living room.”

Roger wanted to disagree, tell him he didn’t have to (it was _his_ flat after all, _he_ should check if everything was alright while Brian relaxed with a nice shower), but before he could open his mouth Brian had kissed him again and left the bathroom.

Five minutes later, when Roger’s skin was already getting warm under the hot water, he heard the bathroom door open. “As good as new.” he informed.

“Thank you.” Roger managed to say while trying to open the lid of the body soap bottle. How and why was it so fucking tight.

“Of course. Do you mind if I say here? It’s warmer.”

“What? Yeah, sure.” he let out a relieved groan when it finally snapped open, and then processed what Brian had just said. “Oh, wait, uhm. Are you cold?”

“Well, my socks are positively soaked.” he joked, and Roger could hear his smile.

“Okay. Well, uh, you don’t have to if you don’t want to, of course, but, you know, if you want, like— you can get in. The shower, I mean. With me.”

When three seconds passed by and he didn’t receive an answer, Roger started to panic a little bit and almost dropped the bottle of soap. “I just— I thought it would be— I mean, you’d get warmer that way! But it’s totally okay if you don’t want to, I’ll hurry, uh, give me a moment to—”

“Roger.” finally he heard Brian’s voice, and he sounded both amused and exasperated.

He swallowed. “Yes?”

“Shut up.”

He obeyed. He could hear Brian’s clothes hit the floor and his heart was beating so fast it was probably unhealthy. He closed his eyes and moved right under the running water, struggling to control his breathing. In no time, Brian slided the courtain and stepped inside, and Roger forced himself to open his eyes.

Their eyes met, and Roger could tell his boyfriend was struggling as much as he was to keep them there. It didn’t take long for his eyes to wander all the way to Brian’s ribcage. There, right under his heart and a bit to the left, was the first thing he ever said to him written in golden letters.

_What the hell, man? Did you want to kill someone or do you have a personal vendetta against that door?_

He was still a bit embarrassed those were the words carved in Brian’s skin, while his weren’t _that_ bad. Cute, even.

After a few seconds that felt like approximately five years, Roger bashfully pulled Brian under the water, stepping aside so that he had enough room. Brian closed his eyes to avoid getting water into his eyes and sighed. “I am being reborn.” he laughed, and Roger hummed.

“You look good with your hair wet.” he said, playfully pulling one of his now straightened curls.

Brian raised an eyebrow and opened one eye enough to take him by the arm and press him against his chest. “I get a feeling like you think you’re funny, but you’re not.” he murmured against his equally wet blond hair.

Roger chuckled and wrapped his arms around Brian. “But you look so good, like a wet poodle. It’s adorable.” he teased, resting his chin in one of Brian’s collarbones. He snorted and shook his head before pressing a kiss to Roger’s temple.

“Do you want me to wash your hair?” he offered, running his hand through his blond strands.

“Mmm…” was Roger answer, already a bit sleepy by his boyfriend’s attentions.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Brian snickered. “Turn around then, give me the shampoo.” he patted Roger’s lower back, awfully close to his round and soft butt, but he still had some self control with him.

It wasn’t enough not to check him out once he bent a bit to get the bottle, but he wasn’t particularly proud about that. Thankfully, Roger didn’t seem to notice.

“ _Give your hair the treatment it deserves. New hair, new you._ ” he read from the bottle, eyeing Roger with a teasing glint in his eyes.

The blond rolled his eyes and smacked his arm.“Shut up. It was on sale.”

“Mhm. Turn around.”

It didn’t take long for Roger to shamelessly start to sigh and hum when Brian started to wash his hair, taking care of every strand and massaging his scalp even when there was nothing left to do other than wash the soap away. If Brian thought something of his sounds, he didn’t comment.

Eventually it was time for Roger to come back to Earth. He turned around and kissed Brian before taking the bottle of shampoo.

“My turn.” he smiled. “I need you to bent down a bit, though.” he added thoughtfully.

“You can wash my hair from there.” Brian protested.

“Yes, but I want to give you the same mind-blowing massage you just gave me. C’mon, Curly, bend down a bit.”

“My back will hurt if I bend.”

“Then kneel, or something.”

“...You want me to _kneel_? In front of you?”

Roger cleared his throat, a slight blush making his way across his face. “With nothing but pure and honest intentions, of course.” he declared.

“Of course.” Brian nodded slowly, smirking. He seemed to think it over for a moment, staring at Roger before shrugging and nodding again. “Alright, I’ll humour you. I’ll kneel. But I do appreciate my knees, so don’t take too long.”

“You don’t give a time limit to an artist.” Roger mumbled while spreading some shampoo on his hand.

“Whatever, Michelangelo.” Brian rolled his eyes and gracelessly kneeled in front of Roger, his face in front of the blond’s tummy.

“Uh, I was kind of thinking you would, you know, uhm… face the… the other way…” Roger tried to articulate, but the sight in front of him was way too distracting for him to actually form meaningful sentences.

Brian gave a lopsided grin and shook his head, placing his hands on Roger’s calves. “Oh no. If I’m going to kneel at least I want to see your face while you do it.”

Roger pressed his lips and swallowed but tried to play it cool by shrugging and mumbling _whatever_ as he started to run his hands across Brian’s hair. He tried to do it as incredibly relaxing as his boyfriend had, but he wasn’t getting any kind of reaction from Brian. When Brian had started to massage his scalp he had trouble staying _awake_ , but now, Brian’s eyes were still as open as they were at the beginning and he was still focused on Roger’s face.

“Is it not good?” he asked in a whisper, trying to mask his concern.

“It’s honestly incredible.” Brian replied. “I just love seeing your face when you concentrate. You’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

Roger stopped his movements and looked at him for a second before resuming his massage. “You already have me, there’s no need to be so cheesy.” he mumbled, awfully aware of the flush glowing on his cheeks. He could always blame it to the hot temperature of the water.

Brian laughed softly and Roger turned a bit to grab the shower head. He pressed the side of his palm against the Brian’s forehead to prevent any water or soap from getting into his eyes. “Close your eyes.” he warned, and this time Brian obliged. Carefully, he started to wash away the soap, making sure every curl was shampoo-free before pinning the shower head back on its place. “There. Done.” he smiled a bit, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other at the top of his head. “You’ve never looked cleaner.”

Brian hummed and opened his eyes, but instead of looking at Roger his eyes focused on his hip. More specifically, the golden words on the right side of his hip. He moved his arms from his legs to his waist and brushed the sentence with his thumb, as if he wanted to make sure it wouldn’t wash away. Once he was satisfied with its permanency, he closed his eyes and pressed a slow kiss on the skin right below Roger’s navel, and then another a little bit to the left, and _another_ one a little bit _more_ to the left, and kept going until he had kissed every single golden letter.

When he looked up, he only had time to register Roger’s teary eyes before the blond was kneeling in front of him, tangling his hands around his neck and bringing him in for a kiss. He wrapped his arms around Roger and got drunk on the little sounds he let go, bringing him impossibly closer until not even a needle would fit between their bodies.

When the water bill came in at the end of the month, Roger had to come up with a very good excuse to escape from Tim’s murderous (yet understandable) intentions.

The first time Roger and Brian made love was on their six months anniversary.

It was a Thursday, and because Roger had an exam on his last period and wanted to get as many hours of study as possible before inevitably failing, and Brian didn’t get out of work until six, they weren’t able to spend it together. They barely even saw each other until they met on Roger’s flat around seven. When the blond read Brian’s message saying he was waiting at the door he sprinted across his apartment all the way from his bedroom, even jumping over a coffee table to get to his boyfriend as fast as possible.

After five minutes of Roger devouring Brian’s mouth while pinning him against the wall, they held hands and started to walk down the street to go get some dinner. It would have been nice to go to a fancy restaurant, or at least something fancier than a chippy— but Roger was saving to afford a new drum set and Brian didn’t care about what they ate as much as he cared about the company.

A month ago Roger had made the decision to finish his studies, but to also get back on playing drums. It took him a while to put his embarrassment and pride aside to ask Brian if he’d mind helping him a little bit with some of his classes, only to make sure he didn’t fail any subject and didn’t have to spend more time than necessary studying Biology, to which Brian had answered with a kiss and a very vigorous _yes_.

After finishing their dinner Brian said he wanted to take him somewhere, but that it was a surprise. Roger didn’t even think before letting him lead the way, curious and excited and barely controlling his urges to question his boyfriend about where they were going.

When they started to get into the clubbing streets, Roger eyed him warily. “Bri, you know I hate club music, don’t you?”

“I do.” he nodded, but his smile didn’t falter at all. Roger decided to trust his judgement and said nothing else other than little comments here and there about their surroundings. Eventually, they stopped in front of a club and Roger raised an eyebrow. Its name was as ambiguous as the decoration.

“ _Rhye_?” he read out loud. “What does that mean?”

“It’s just a name.” Brian replied, still smiling a bit. “Come on, let’s get inside.”

Roger pursed his lips but didn’t argue, letting Brian pull from his arm until they were inside. There was a large, dark corridor and at the end two dark and heavy-looking doors.

“Uhm… Is this some kind of kinky shit? Did you take me to an orgy club or something like that? Because it’s not what I was expecting, but I do have to say if your intention was to surprise me you’ve definitely succeeded.”

Brian laughed but shook his head, walking to the doors. As they got closer, Roger started to recognise the music coming from the other side. Once Brian pushed one of the doors (which was, in fact, very heavy), a deafening mix of rock, roars and stomps left Roger completely astounded. There was a scenery with five people playing _I wanna rock_ , by Twisted Sister, while the crowd went crazy on the dance floor— although it seemed the whole thing was itself a dance floor. There was a bar with barely any space between the counter and the public, and Roger saw a few people resting their arms on the scenery itself.

The band finished the song and the crowd screamed and threw their hands in the air, asking for more. Using the slightly quieter moment, Brian turned to Roger and leaned to ask in his ear. “Do you like it?”

Roger looked at him as if he had descended from Heaven only to take him to a live rock club and swallowed before nodding. “Yeah.”

Brian smiled and pointed to the crowd, asking him silently if he wanted to dance. The band started to play again. _Gimme shelter_ , by The Rolling Stones filled his ears and Roger found himself in the middle of the dance floor before he could even think about it.

They sang, drank, laughed, danced (well, Roger danced— Brian retreated after one song and found a nice place next to the bar from where he could watch Roger dance while he had a drink), and Roger even fell at some point, but Brian couldn’t really worry about if he had hurt himself when all he said was “Oh, I missed the chorus!” with a frown before starting to jump and sing again.

It was twelve thirty when Brian took Roger by the wrist and told him they should get back. Roger complained and shook his head, the music way too loud for them to actually have a conversation. Brian knew he was tired by the way he was starting to slow down and gradually jumping with less energy— and they had school tomorrow. They had arrived to the club around nine fifteen, but still Roger looked like he hadn’t had enough.

“One more,” he said in Brian’s ear loud enough for him to hear. “One more song and we can go home, but you have to dance with me. No more ogling me from the bar.”

Brian tried to defend himself, but Roger’s smirk left no place for negotiations. He sighed and raised a finger. “One song.”

Roger pulled from Brian’s wrist and shimmied through the hot, sweaty bodies on the dance floor until he found a spot for them. The band was about to finish _Can’t stop_ , by Red Hot Chili Peppers and Brian managed to move his limbs in a way that resembled dancing enough for no one to look at him as if he had lost his mind. He was even following the rhythm a bit, how about that?

Roger laughed and playfully punched him on the shoulder. “You’re a great dancer!”

Brian rolled his eyes and placed his hands on the blond’s hips. “You’re very funny.” he deadpanned, which only made Roger smile even wider. “I’ll let you know it’s not easy to keep all these bad boys under control.” he said, suddenly moving his arms in wave-like movements, in a way that resembled an octopus having some kind of seizure.

When the song stopped, Roger was still laughing.

_When I look in your eyes I can feel the fire_

_A see through disguise can’t conceal desire_

It took him a moment to catch his breath, but eventually he focused on the song the band was started to play. He didn’t recognise it right away, it had been a while since he last heard it, but eventually his brain clicked and his eyes widened. It was a very suggestive song. About, well, you know. Doing the dirty.

He looked back at Brian, who was moving his head to the beat of the bass line. The band was giving it a bit of a personal touch, but the essence of the song was very much still there— _I want to have sex with you_.

Brian placed his eyes on Roger. “Bon Jovi?” he asked, still softly banging his head to the music. Roger nodded and swallowed.

“ _Let’s make it, baby_ ,” he said while pressing himself against Brian and throwing his arms around his neck. His boyfriend looked at him with wide eyes and Roger couldn’t be sure because of the reddish, dark lightening of the club, but he was pretty sure he was blushing. A sudden rush of confidence washed over him. “It’s the name of the song.” he smirked, his eyes never leaving Brian’s, who opened his mouth and then nodded.

_So turn out the lights, I'm going down slowly_

_Don't tell me what's right. Just tell me you want me_

Slowly, Brian wrapped his arms around Roger’s waist and pressed him close, letting him guide their moves. The blond sighed and bit his lip before closing his eyes and drowning in the song.

_Tell me you want me_

_Just tell me you want me, want me, want me_

He was starting to feel dizzy, and he didn’t know if it was because of the heat, the alcohol, the exhaustion or _something else_. Something completely different, something he hadn’t felt until— until that moment.

He opened his eyes and looked at Brian, who looked like he was having trouble breathing. He was staring at Roger like a starved lion stares at a gazelle, and Roger felt a funny tingle in between his legs when he faced those eyes— those dark, hungry eyes. He chest filled with pride to know he was looking at _him_ , he wanted _him_.

_Let's make it, baby_

_Come, come, come a little bit closer_

He tangled his fingers in his curly hair and, ever so slowly, started to lean back while keeping his hips connected to Brian’s, knowing he’d never let him fall. He felt his fingers press a bit harder on his waist and let out a tiny gasp before smirking, pleased to no end. Eventually he let go of his hair to be able to lean back even more and let his hands wander free down his shoulders, biceps, forearms, until he reached his hands.

He dug his nails into his skin, not too deep but enough to pull a groan out of Brian’s lips. He smirked and kept leaning back until his back was practically arched in a perpendicular position from the brunet. Brian’s fingers kept digging into his hips, and then he started to lean forwards to press their bodies together while moving an arm around Roger’s body to keep him steady.

_It keeps getting harder, harder, harder to keep me away_

_I want to taste the sweat that's runnin' off of your body_

Roger wasn’t expecting that move, for sure— but he was delighted to feel Brian’s hot body tightly pressed against his. He lifted a hand and pinned his thigh against Brian’s hip, bringing their bodies closer and, more specifically, their crotches. He heard Brian sigh and felt his fingers intertwine with his blond hair, pulling a bit until Roger revealed his throat. Roger clutched his shoulders when he felt Brian’s tongue running all the way from his exposed clavicle to his jaw.

He moaned softly, barely a whisper, but they were close enough for Brian to hear. He pressed a kiss against his wet skin and then bit down so smoothly it was hardly a scratch of his teeth.

_Just tell me you want me_

_Let's make it baby_

When the song came to an end, both slowly started to straighten up without detangling their bodies until they were standing in the middle of the dance floor, breathless, sweaty, hot and _ready_.

Brian caressed Roger’s hip and pressed their foreheads together, their lips so close to touching but so far away at the same time. “Do you want to go home now?” he slurred, looking at a pair of equally blown blue eyes.

Roger nodded slowly, as if he had trouble understanding what he had said— but that was all Brian needed. He took him by the hand and lead them both through the mass of sweaty bodies until they reached the same black doors they had walked through three hours ago.

Once they reached Brian’s flat (the initial plan was to go back to Roger’s because it was closer to school, but Brian’s apartment counted with a very convenient advantage: no roommate), it was all a mess. Lips leaving red marks, teeth scratching skin, tongues dancing together, nails sinking and scraping. None of them wanted to rush, no matter how desperate they were for each other’s touch, and instead took their time exploring each other, drinking each other’s sounds and pleas, getting into each other’s skin.

When the moment finally came, it didn’t feel like a first time— they seemed to know every little detail about the other, every single secret, every particular weakness. Brian knew how to touch Roger to make him see the stars he loved so much and scream his name, and Roger knew just how to move to bring Brian closer and closer to the edge. When they finished the first time, they had come to a point where Brian’s voice was raw and sore and Roger was no longer seeing stars— he was seeing _The whole fucking Milky Way.  
_

When Roger woke up the next morning, the first thing he thought was that he was cold. He curled up and frowned, missing the already familiar warmth of his soulmate around his body. Squinting at the light that came from the window, he turned around and found him sprawled out on the other side of the bed, very naked and very far away. He grunted and crawled to his side, wrapping an arm around his chest and pressing his whole body against his side. Feeling his skin directly pressed against his made him shiver, but not from cold, and he dropped a sleepy trail of kisses across his jaw and neck.

“How dare you move away from me in your sleep.” he mumbled against his shoulder, already feeling sleepy again. Before closing his eyes, he traced the red little marks scattered around Brian’s chest with his forefinger, remembering with a fond smile the events of the night before.

“Hmm…” was Brian’s answer, his arm unconsciously moving to embrace Roger and pull him closer even with his eyes still closed. The blond let out a content sigh and followed his lead, feeling more complete than ever.

A minute passed, and Roger was close to falling asleep again when Brian’s voice woke him up with a jolt. “What time is it?” he gasped.  
  
Roger frowned and hid his face in Brian’s neck. “Do I look like a clock? Shut up. It’s sleep time.” he growled.

Suddenly, Brian sat up and checked the clock on the nightstand. “ _Fuck_ ,” he whispered. “Rog! We’re late for class! It’s almost ten!” he snapped, trying to detangle himself from his boyfriend’s grip. It was useless, however, because Roger had decided he was going to sleep and there was no way he’d change his mind— not when his body still felt like jelly and the mere thought of walking presented itself like an impossible challenge.

“Don’t care. No class. Only sleep.” he murmured, pulling Brian back to bed and laying on top of him to prevent him from moving.

“No, Rog, come on, we have to… We…” as his determination died, Roger started to kiss his neck and chest to make sure he made the right choice (see also: staying in bed). After a few moments, he sighed. After all, he didn’t have an actually compelling reason to get up other than he’d have to ask for his classmates’ notes. “I guess it’s fine if we skip class once.” he conceded, wrapping his arms around Roger and falling back to sleep in less than ten minutes. After all, it had been a very intense night. They deserved a break.  
  
  
When Brian woke up the second time, he found himself hugging tightly a pillow instead of Roger. Taking a look at the clock, he noticed they slept for a couple more hours after waking up the first time. He got out of bed and put on the first pair of clean underwear he found before leaving the bedroom. Only then, he noticed a delicious smell coming from down the corridor all the way to the kitchen. He followed it and found Roger drinking coffee from a cup while stirring something that looked like scrambled eggs with vegetables with his other hand. He was wearing one of Brian’s sweatpants, which looked dangerously close to sliding down Roger’s hip bones and reveal more skin.

The corners of his lips turned upwards and he took a few steps towards Roger until he was standing right behind him. He could tell he already knew he was there by the little smile that adorned his face. He placed both hands on his hips and pressed his chest against Roger’s back, tenderly kissing the top of his head.

“Hello, you.” Roger greeted.

Brian hummed and bowed his head a bit, slowly brushing his beautiful blond hair from his shoulders to drop soft kisses all over his skin. “Hi, there.” he finally murmured, gently pressing his lips against Roger’s ear after leaving one last kiss right on that spot behind his ear that made him shiver. “What are you doing?”

“Crochet. Isn’t it obvious?” he asked while stirring the scrambled eggs, the sarcasm in his voice dulled by the smile tugging at his lips. He ended up letting out a laugh when Brian pinched him softly on the side and he squirmed a bit, but didn’t manage to break free from Brian’s embrace. “Late breakfast. Early lunch. However you want to call it.” he shrugged. “I warmed up some soup and there’s that quiche Freddie bought the other day in the oven, but it’s a bit small so I thought I’d do some eggs as well. The breakfast part, you see.” he smirked and tilted his head so that Brian could kiss him on the lips at last.

“I see.” Brian mumbled against his lips, reluctant to leave them so that he could keep cooking. “It smells amazing, baby.”

He could feel Roger bite his lower lip before turning his attention to the pan once again, the trace of a blush covering his ears. “It better do. I had to cut the broccoli in tiny pieces for your vegetarian ass. It would have been so much easier with bacon, you know?”

Brian laughed and hugged him tightly around the belly. “And I am grateful for your effort. Can I help with something?” he asked, taking a look around to see if there was something else that needed to be done— but Roger had even set the table.

“Yes, you can sit there and look pretty for me while I finish this.” he pointed at one of the chairs with the wooden spatula, and after kissing his cheek with a loud _muah_ , Brian obeyed.

Not even ten minutes later, they were both stuffing their mouths and filling their stomachs. Brian realized how hungry he was the moment he took his first bite. It was only natural, considering the incredible amount of exercise they did last night. When he voiced his thoughts, after a couple of minutes where both had been too busy giving their bodies the fuel it needed to talk, Roger almost spat his eggs all over the table as he laughed.

“I guess you’re not wrong.” he nodded, downing the lump of eggs and broccoli on his throat with some water. Then he crossed his legs and stretched an arm to caress softly Brian’s exposed thigh with his forefinger while smiling mischievously. “I’ll let you know this meal is highly nutritious and packed full of vitamins, so maybe after this we can, you know—”

Brian slapped Roger’s hand away end sent him a pointed look. “First finish your nutritious meal and then _maybe_ we can talk about spending all that energy.”

Roger pursed his lips before smirking, placing his hand on Brian’s thigh again and squeezing a little bit. “I’ve got plenty of energy already.” he purred before palming him through his underwear, trying to get a reaction out of him.

Brian, however, raised an eyebrow and stilled his hand by grabbing him by the wrist. He forced the blond to rest his hand on the table, making sure to cover it with his to ensure he didn’t make another move. “Eat now. We can talk about dessert once we’re done.”

Roger licked his lips and thought about it for a second. “Promise?”  
  
Brian chuckled and nodded. “Promise.” he laughed again, seeing the way Roger quickly started to devour his food until the plate was shiny and spotless. He had to endure his intense stare while he finished his meal, all while trying to get some conversation going— but Roger was too focused on Brian’s lips and hands to function properly.

The moment Brian put his fork down, Roger’s lips were against his and before he could process what was going on he was sitting on top of him. “I’d like my dessert now.” he murmured against Brian’s lips, his fingers threading through the dark browns of the older man’s hair.

Brian hummed against his mouth and his mouth followed the line of Roger’s jaw to his ear, lowering to his neck as he sucked marks into every inch of skin his lips touched. The blond threw his head back, offering more of his neck as he all but grinded back against his boyfriend.

“You’re insatiable, aren’t you? Were four times not enough for you last night?” Brian asked in a whisper while nibbling Roger’s earlobe. He shook his head and lowered his head to kiss Brian on the lips.

“We could christenise the kitchen table.” he suggested with a smirk, and the look on his eyes told Brian he had already made up his mind and there was no way he’d let him take them to the bedroom.

Brian sighed, but took him by the thighs to lift him as he stood up. The kitchen table it was, then.  
  


The first time Roger and Brian said they loved each other was couple of weeks after their one year anniversary.

For Roger, he had been off to a bad start after sleeping in and missing a very important class where his professor explained what would be in the next exam— the final exam. Of course, he asked his classmates for their notes and they shared them with him, but Roger had wanted to ask him a couple of questions and the douchebag was one of those teachers to never allow any questions outside of class.

The git.

Then he had lunch with Jim and Freddie, which was nice, but Brian was busy with a project and couldn’t make it and that was a bummer. He understood, though, so he settled for sending him a picture of Jim and Freddie blowing him a kiss and then a selfie with a silly face, knowing it would make him smile.

Brian didn’t reply, and that was odd, but Roger knew better than to double text his easily stressed boyfriend when he was busy.

The worst moment, without a doubt, came when he got his grade to one of the exams he took the week before. The big, harrowing _49/100_ written in red ink made his heart drop to his stomach. One point. He failed for _one point_. He went over every single page with the open textbook on his side, trying to find some kind of mistake on the professor’s correction, but found none. She had been completely fair as well, and even went out of her way giving him some extra points for explaining a particularly difficult topic without missing any important information. Still, it wasn’t enough.

Even with Brian’s help, the extra study, all the effort he put into it, it wasn’t enough.

He took a deep breath and avoided crying until he was outside the school, waiting for the bus. He sobbed quietly, trying to not bring anyone’s attention to him. _I’m so fucking useless, I’m so fucking stupid._

When he got home, still upset but no longer crying, he thought about making himself some tea to relax and get his mind somewhere else by watching some stupid TV reality show, but decided against it. He knew something that would make him feel a hundred times better a lot faster, but before leaving his apartment, he thought of something else. Something that had been on his mind for a few days, weeks even, but that he hadn’t managed to do.

He went to his room and took one of his text books, flipping through the pages until he found the one he needed. He took a pair of scissors and started to cut, carefully and slowly, the bits he needed. Then, he took an empty card that he had bought about three years ago with the firm intention of writing something nice to his parents for Christmas— but that had been left behind in the end, be it for his lack of motivation or inspiration.

Either way, it was a nice card that would finally have a purpose in life.

Sure, a card maybe wasn’t the best way to say _I love you_ to your boyfriend (and soulmate) for the first time, but Roger felt so awkward every time he tried. And he had _tried_ . But every single time he opened his mouth, his stomach turned and a voice in his head whispered _Stop! You’ll ruin the moment! That’s so awkward! A stupid thing to say! He already knows, dummy!_ so he just, you know. Didn’t say it.

But there was a little bit of truth to that nasty, nosy voice: they _did know_ already. Even if they hadn’t said the words explicitly, they said _I love you_ in a hundred of different ways every day they spent together. When Roger bought tickets for the special opening of the new planetary ( _with more than five new sections about constellations and spacedust and other spacey shit you like_ , Roger said when he told him about the tickets), or when Brian used his height and most intimidating face to make sure the man from the music store didn’t sell the drumset Roger wanted before he could afford it, or when Roger tried to (and failed to) learn the recipe to Brian’s favourite vegetarian dish, or when Brian laughed and thanked him and ate all of it anyway (despite Roger’s insistence about it being overcooked and most probably no longer edible because of all the accidental pepper).

Or simply when they looked at each other almost every morning, both men a tangled mess of arms and legs, skin to skin, and stared into each other’s eyes without saying anything _because there was no need to_.

So it wouldn’t really be the first time he’d say _I love you_ to Brian, but it’d be the first time he’d say it out loud. Or, well— write it. More or less.

He took the tiny and half empty bottle of glue and carefully and slowly started to glue the tiny pieces of paper to the red card. When he finished, he stared at his masterpiece and smiled. He left it drying for about half an hour, and then emptied his school bag except for one notebook. He put the card in between the cover and the first page to keep it safe and, after checking the glue wasn’t sticking to the cover, he left the flat and took the bus once again, this time in the direction of Brian’s apartment.

About twenty minutes later he arrived and opened the door with the key his boyfriend gave him a few months before— just as he had done with him. He knew he didn’t have work that day, so he wouldn’t take much longer to get there.

He went to the kitchen and made some tea, and then waited, and waited, and waited.

It was past five when he heard the door open— more than an hour after his arrival. The tea was cold, or at least what was left from it was. Still, he rushed to the door with a smile.

“Hey there,” he greeted, immediately noticing Brian’s little frown from the moment he walked through the door. His boyfriend looked at him for a second and _something_ crossed his face, but before Roger could identify what it was he turned around to hang his jacket.

“Hey. What are you doing here?”

Roger fidgeted a bit, playing with his fingers behind his back. “Uhm, I wanted to see you.” he paused. Then, softly: “You said I could come whenever I wanted to, right?”

Brian sighed and approached him, placing a hand on his waist before kissing his forehead. “Of course you can.”

Roger beamed and tangled his fingers in Brian’s hair, disheveling it gently. “Are you alright?” Brian nodded, eyes closed, and the blond hummed. “I made some tea, but it’s cold now. I’ll make some more while you change clothes.” he dropped a kiss to Brian’s jaw and turned on his heels to go to the kitchen.

“How long have you been here waiting?” Brian asked while crossing the living room to get to his bedroom, getting rid of his bag on the way.

“Uh, I don’t know. A bit. I wanted to see you, I didn’t mind waiting.” he shrugged, well aware that Brian couldn’t see him, and put some water on the heat again.

A couple of minutes later, Brian came back with the same pair of pants but a soft, loose sweater instead of the white shirt he was wearing before. Roger sent him a smile, and Brian replied with one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. _It will cheer him up_ , he thought. _The card will make him feel better._ He just had to wait for the right moment to give it to him.

“Tough day?” he asked, leaning against the counter while the other took a seat on one of the high stools on the kitchen table. He nodded and rested his chin on the palm of his hand. Roger chewed on his lip and suppressed the urge to ask him more about it. He knew when Brian wanted to tell him, he’d tell him. “Did you see the pictures I sent you? God, Freddie was being a total drama queen today, all because some dude on the way to school told him his new jacket made him look like an angry lizard—”

Roger spent the next ten minutes talking about this and that, busying himself with the tea and serving it in two cups before taking a seat in front of Brian. He could tell he wasn’t listening to him, not fully at least. He had that lost, unfocused look in his eyes.

Slowly, as if fearing he’d run away like a scared rabbit, Roger placed his hand on top of Brian’s and softly caressed the back with his thumb. “Hey,” he whispered. “Are you okay?”

Brian quickly put a smile on his face and squeezed his hand. “Yes. Yes, of course, sorry. I was a bit distracted.” he paused, and then remembered something. “How was your exam? You said they’d give you the grade today, right?”

Roger’s heart missed a beat. Oh, no. No, he couldn’t tell him. He couldn’t let him know his boyfriend (and soulmate) was a complete and utter waste of space and time, not when he had tried so hard to help him understand the subject. No. No way. He quickly thought of something to say, something that would get him out of that situation.

“Uhh, what exam?” he asked dumbly.

_Great thinking, Roger. Absolutely outstanding. Genius material in all its glory._

Brian raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean? The exam we prepared so hard for. You know, the one about the principles of molecular cells? That one.”

“Oh. That one.” he awkwardly laughed. He stared at his cup, his heart beating fast, and caressed the rim with a finger. “Uhm, no they— they didn’t give me the grade. I guess it’s taking them a bit longer than usual.” he smiled and looked back at Brian, but quickly focused on the tea again. He couldn’t bring himself to hold the gaze.

There was a moment of silence.

“Why are you lying to me?”

Brian’s voice was so soft, so collected, Roger barely registered it. He didn’t sound angry, or disappointed, just… _Calm_. He tried to smile and deny it, keeping up with his lie.

“What are you talking about? Who says I’m lying?”

Brian took a sip of his tea before answering. “I know you enough to tell when you’re lying. Did they really not give you the exam back? Or do you not want to tell me your grade?”

Roger’s breath got caught in his throat. Why was he so _calm_? Why was he pressing it so much? Why was he acting like that? And if he had already come to the conclusion he didn’t want to tell him his grade, couldn’t he think of a reason as to why that could be? Wasn’t it obvious? He obviously wouldn’t hide a perfect grade, would he? “Maybe I don’t.” he mumbled, diverting his gaze.

Finally, Brian showed some kind of emotion— he frowned. “Why not?”

Roger closed his eyes and took a deep breath, trying to remain calm. It was difficult when he felt his heartbeat on his throat and his stomach twisting and turning. “Because I don’t. I’m entitled to my own privacy, aren’t I?” he replied, defensive.

Brian’s scowl deepened and he crossed his arms. “You shouldn't want to keep things from me. We shouldn’t have secrets.”

“If I don’t want to tell you,” he repeated. “Then I don’t have to tell you. End of discussion.”

The air was so thick you could cut it with a knife. Roger was trying to keep it cool, he really was, but Brian was acting so cold towards him, and he’d never seen him like that, and he was still embarrassed about his results on the exam, and he had just wanted to spend a nice evening with his boyfriend so _why_ was all going so incredibly wrong?   
  
“But why?” Brian insisted, sounding equally confused and frustrated.

Roger finally lost his temper and stood, running a hand through his air. “Because I don’t want to, Brian!”

He didn’t want Brian to look at him with pity or disappointment in his eyes. He didn’t want him to know it wasn’t a matter of the time he spent studying, it was a matter of his own capacity. He couldn’t do it, he wasn’t made to do it. He’d never make it.

“Yes, I understand that, my question is _why_ you don’t want to tell me!” Brian stood up as well, and Roger wanted to punch him and cry or punch him, cry, then run away— one of those two options.

“Because I _don’t_!”

“Roger!”  
  
“Fine!” he yelled, snapping at last. He hit the table and looked at Brian straight in the eye, almost daring him to look away. “You want to know? You want to know _so badly_ that you can’t respect my privacy? Fine then! I failed! I _failed_ , Brian! I failed the fucking test! I’m _so sorry_ your soulmate is a fucking idiot who can’t get his shit together! _I’m sorry_ I made you waste your time trying to help me understand all that shit! Are you happy now? Are you satisfied? Was it worthy?” There were tears in his eyes by the time he finished, and his throat was sore. He didn’t realise how high he had yelled those words until that moment, but he didn’t regret it.

Brian was looking at him with wide eyes, but said nothing. He didn’t move, either, so after a few seconds Roger brushed his tears away and took a step back. He stared at Brian for a couple of seconds. “I really hope you’re happy now.” He mumbled before walking straight to the door. He took his bag, his jacket, and left.

  
  


Three hours later, Roger’s stomach finally came back to life. It always went like that when he was upset and cried as much as he had a few hours before: he cried, got tired, slept for a while, woke up, drank a bit, and then he got so hungry he could eat a whole horse in one bite.

A pizza would do, though.

Thankfully, Tim was off with his friends that night so he didn’t have to bother about pretending to care about his sleeping routine or eating habits. Every time his roommate found him eating enormous amounts of food in front of the TV he got worried and started to ask questions, consequently pissing Roger off. He knew he did it with the best of intentions, but in moments like those he just wanted to be left alone and drown in self pity.

He ordered a large pizza with every topping on the list (except anchovies, those smelly tossers) and a large drink, plus a piece of cheesecake.

 _Tomorrow morning Roger is going to hate me for this_ , he thought as he clicked the “Confirm order” button and stared at his poor, poor credit card. But he needed it, he really did. He thought of inviting Freddie over, but remembered he told him he’d be on a date with Jim and Mary that night.

_What a group of weirdos._

He wouldn’t have to wait for long. _30 minutes or less!_ , promised the pizza web page. In the meantime, he turned on the TV and started looking for something to watch, something stupid and ridiculous that would take his mind somewhere else. Somewhere where he wasn’t a burden, a failure, a terrible student and a messy soulmate and boyfriend. He went from one channel to another until he found something that checked all the boxes. There, a reality show. That was perfect.

“Oh wow, that girl is wearing so much makeup.” he commented to no one as he got comfortable on the couch. “You can’t really see her face.”

Almost twenty minutes later, when Roger was close to be emotionally invested on that reality show, the doorbell rang. He reluctantly got up, eyes still glued to the screen. “Oh my god, _she slept with him_?” he whispered, absolutely scandalized as he walked to the door. On his way there, as a consequence of not watching his step, he kicked his shin against a coffee table. He cursed out loud and massaged his leg as he jumped to get to the door, giving thanks to God there was no one there to see him in that situation.

The pizza guy looked terribly tired, and didn’t even wait for Roger to tip him before mumbling something that sounded like a _goodnight_ and walking down the hall. He shrugged and went back to the couch, quickly catching up on what he had missed on the show.

He was halfway through his second piece of pizza when the doorbell rang again. He stopped munching for a second, confused. Was the pizza boy back to get his tip? He rolled his eyes as he muted the show, frustrated. Why couldn’t he enjoy a little bit of scripted and exaggerated drama?

He swallowed, wiped his lips and stood up again with a sigh, mentally cursing whoever was behind the door for making him miss the grand revelation of who had stolen the pink haired chick’s dress.

His breath hitched when he saw Brian standing on the other side of the door through the peephole. What the hell was he doing there? Was he still angry? He couldn’t tell by the look on his face, and he didn’t really feel like talking to him— not when he looked like a mess with his hair in a bun and dirty old clothes and a greasy pizza waiting for him in the living room. But he couldn’t pretend he wasn’t home— could he? No, no, of course not. He couldn’t just hide from his soulmate. Like, again. Roger admitted that he was a total dumbass sometimes, but a dumbass who learns from his mistakes nonetheless.

_Come on, Rog. Just open the door. He’ll really think you’re gone if you don’t._

He spun a few times on the spot before taking a deep breath, pulling his most neutral expression, and opening the door. Sure enough, Brian had taken a couple of step backs and looked like he was about to leave, but the moment he saw Roger his eyebrows shot up.

No one said nothing for a few seconds, and Roger folded his arms and leaned against the doorframe. Yeah, he was _so_ going to play it cool. “Can I help you?” he used the most casual, uninterested tone he could muster.

Brian swallowed and, instead of answering, he held up a paper bag, offering it to Roger. “It’s, uh, one of those muffins we had on our second date. The ones with the whipped cream and white chocolate chips, you remember them?” There was a pause. “Uhm, we were walking down the street and you saw this bakery with—”

“I remember the muffins.” Roger cut him. “Why are you giving this to me?” he asked, his tone sharp. Did he think he could bribe him with a muffin?  
  
Brian looked down, then at the bag, and finally at Roger. “You like to eat a lot when you get sad. I thought I could help with the dessert.” he confessed in a soft, apologetic tone.

Roger’s heart skipped a bit and he swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. Brian knew of his rituals for when something bad happened, one because he told him and two because he lived through one of them. Last time, when Roger found out one of his favourite singers had died, Brian kept him company the whole time, even when he was cranky and sensitive after his nap. “Who says I was sad?” he focused on maintaining his emotions at bay, staring at Brian directly in the eyes. Brian, instead, looked away and munched on his lower lip.

“Well, I was. I figured you’d be too.” he shifted a bit, as if he was considering his next words. When he finally stopped worrying his lip with his teeth and opened his mouth, his voice was something close to a whisper. “And I could feel you.”

Yeah, that was one of the things about being connected with someone else. You can’t pretend to be as cool as a cucumber when they _know_ you’ve been crying and napping and then stuffing yourself to prevent more crying.

Roger pursed his lips, gazed at him for a few more seconds, and eventually took the bag from his hand before turning around and going back to the couch, a silent invitation for him to come inside. He heard Brian close the door behind him and hang his coat, joining him on the living room immediately after. Roger eyed him as the taller man observed his dinner and the show that was still going on the TV.

“What?” he asked sharply, dropping the bag with the muffin (there was more than one, if the weight was any indicator) next to the cheesecake plastic box and turning off the TV with the remote. He sat in front of the pizza, which was already getting cold, and folded his arms.

“Nothing.” Brian shook his head and took a seat on the other side of the couch, giving Roger some space. He didn’t say anything next, so Roger grabbed the piece of pizza he had been eating before he appeared and finished it with big, angry bites. Then he took another one, and when he swallowed the second bite of his fourth slice, he sighed and turned to Brian, who had been stealing glances at him since he had sat down.

“Are you not going to say anything? Didn’t you come here to talk, or what?” he snarled.

Brian looked surprised for a second before tilting slightly his head. “I thought you’d prefer to finish your dinner first.”  
  
Roger rolled his eyes and took a big bite. “I can do both things at the same time.” he mumbled, struggling a bit to pronounce the words enough for Brian to understand. Okay, so maybe he couldn’t.

After a few seconds, Brian nodded and moved a bit closer to Roger on the couch. The blond stood on his ground and didn’t move, focusing his stare on the dark screen of the TV while furiously eating the pizza. “Very well.” he turned his body to the side so that he could face him, watching him chew for a few seconds before taking a short breath. “Rog, I’m sorry.” he started. “I— I’m ashamed of myself. I was… God, I was such a dick. I shouldn’t have pushed you, I should have respected your boundaries. You were telling me to drop it and I kept asking and insisting even when…” there was a pause, and Brian seemed to take a moment to collect his thoughts and stop rambling. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t want to hurt you, I didn’t mean to make you feel worse than you already did, I— I should have been there for you instead of yelling at you. And the things you said… Rog, baby, you’re not an idiot. No, look at me, _you’re not_ . This is the only exam you’ve failed and you don’t even like your career, you should be proud of yourself for keeping up with it even if you hate it. And you’re doing incredibly well because you’re so smart it’s _ridiculous_ , this is just… This is just a bump. You’re not the idiot, _I’m_ the idiot for making you feel the way I did. I— I was angry, but not at you, I was angry at myself and I just— I just—” He stopped and ran his hand through his face, clearly struggling to put his feelings into words now that his brain was catching up with his mouth and he couldn’t ramble anymore.

Roger wasn’t angry at him, not anymore— not when he could literally feel Brian’s regret, his embarrassment, the pain and anxiety that the hours they had spent apart ( _and sad and miserable and lonely_ ) had caused. Roger had always been capable of feeling Brian’s feelings as his own (it sometimes happened when they were together, and sometimes he just had to think of him to know exactly what he was feeling at that moment) so he knew for sure he meant what he said. He was still hurt by his words, yes, and would have preferred to follow his original plan and cuddle with Brian all night long instead of going home alone and depressed— and, in hindsight, there was no way he could eat all that food by himself, which made the whole thing even worse because _tomorrow morning Roger_ was going to hate him _so much_ it was ridiculous.

But he no longer felt the need to punch Brian in the face and then cry and run, which was, altogether, an improvement.

Roger finally turned his body a little bit to face Brian and searched his eyes, which were still hidden behind his long fingers. “You just…?”

Brian took a deep, shaky breath, and looked at Roger. “I—” he was visibly having some troubles outing those words, so Roger didn’t press him no matter how much his skin itched with the need to know. Was he having doubts about their relationship? He waited, and eventually Brian sniffled and nodded, as if he had convinced himself with a good argument to say it. “I walked into my ex.”

Well, that was certainly not what Roger was expecting to hear.

They had talked about Anita before. She had been Brian’s girlfriend for four years, the one who had helped him get over the insecurities and heartbreak his first love, Chrissie, had left behind. She had been Brian’s anchor, and they had been there for each other every single day ever since they started dating— until she found his soulmate about a year ago.

Brian had been deeply and utterly heartbroken. He was so in love with her he considered spending the rest of his life with her despite knowing she wasn’t his soulmate. They had even talked about marriage, children, growing old together. Brian had told him all about her because he hadn’t wanted to keep what they had in the past a secret and because she had been very important for him. She still had a special place in his heart, even if he insisted he didn’t love her anymore— not romantically, at least.

Of course Roger believed him. He didn’t have any reasons not to, and he could also feel how honest Brian was when he said he only thought of her as a friend. But, at the same time, he could also feel the way it pained him to talk about her sometimes. He swallowed and his brow furrowed.

“I don’t understand. Did she do something to upset you? Did she insult you or something like that?” he asked, feeling sincerely lost.

Brian shook his head with a weak, soft laugh. “No, not at all. She was as lovely as I remembered her. We talked for a bit, I told her about you.” he looked at Roger when he said this, making sure their gazes met. “I wanted her to know how happy I am now that I have you in my life.”

Roger had to force the tears back into his eyes. He _wasn’t_ going to cry. He bit his lower lip for a moment, turning his attention to the bag of muffins because if he kept staring at Brian’s beautiful, deep eyes he’d probably lose his composure. After a few seconds, he stared at him again and sniffled. “That doesn’t explain why you were a total jerk before.” he retorted, crossing his eyes and leaning his back against the arm rest while crossing his legs on the couch.

Brian nodded and started to play with his fingers, pulling and scratching his cuticles— an old habit that only came up when he was stressed, nervous, scared, or all of the above. Unconsciously, Roger relaxed his facial and corporal expression, his stubborn façade softened by seeing Brian so anxious. He also seemed to have trouble finding the right words once again, something pretty unusual in him. He always knew what to say, how and when to say it, so it was an unexpected picture. Maybe he had underestimated Brian’s negative feelings, maybe he was feeling close to a breakdown, maybe it wasn’t the best moment to talk about that.

He was about to offer making some tea for him when Brian finally opened his mouth. “I was upset because of something she said right before we parted ways.” he paused, his gaze fixed in one of the cushions. “She was joking, I know she was, but I still…” he sighed, and looked at Roger. “She said it so lightly it took me a moment to _actually process it_ , you know? I only realized what exactly she meant when I was about to cross the street. Weird, how the brain works, don’t you think? One moment you’re entirely focused in a conversation and the next you need a few minutes to remember what the other person said…”

“Bri. You’re rambling.”

“Right.” Brian looked down again, seemingly embarrassed or still unable to repeat Anita’s words. Incapable of resisting the curiosity no more, Roger put one of his hands in Brian’s knees to gain his attention.

“What did she say?” he asked, in the softest and most cautious tone he had ever used. Brian opened his mouth, closed it, then opened it again.

“ _I hope you tell that person you love them this time._ ” he mumbled, his eyes still glued to Roger’s even when he frowned, confused. “That’s what she said. She was joking, of course, she was smiling and I _know_ she meant no harm. But I couldn’t take those words out of my head for the rest of the day and…”   
  
“Why did she say that?” Roger interrupted, slightly offended. “It’s none of her business.”

“She was only joking.” Brian insisted, but before Roger could answer (a _I don’t give a fuck_ already tickling his tongue) he placed his hand on top of Roger’s. “She said it because when we were together, I— I never quite told her I loved her.”

Roger blinked. _Uhhh, what._

“Uhhh, what.” he asked, ever so articulate. “Weren’t you like… All lovey-dovey and all that?”

Brian’s face changed from calm to embarrassment. “I— we weren’t— It wasn’t like that. We were very private.” he mumbled, and Roger rolled his eyes.

“You can be lovey-dovey inside the house.” he retaliated.

Brian looked like he was trying to glue together the last pieces of patience he had left. “Stop that.” he frowned slightly, and after royally ignoring Roger’s indignated huff, he sighed. “We were _close_ , and we had no secrets, but… Rog, you know me. I’m not one to— to be, you know—”

“Open about your feelings?” he offered, eyes half closed and eyebrows shot up. “Emotionally transparent?”  
  
There was a pause, as if Brian was trying to figure out if Roger was, in fact, insulting him or he was trying to help him with his discourse. “Yes. That.” he finally settled with. “I’m not either of those things. So one of the… bumps, in our relationship was that I was too closed off and a bit too reluctant to take big steps. We never moved in together, or got married, no matter how many hours we spent planning about it. I didn’t even notice we— _I_ kept postponing it, I thought it would happen _eventually_ , but…” he took a deep breath and quickly licked his lips, resisting the temptation to look at anything but Roger. “I didn’t actually want to marry her or, or build my whole life with her. Not when I knew _you_ were somewhere, waiting for me. It didn’t seem _fair—_ for any of us. Anita found her soulmate, can you imagine what would have happened if we had gotten married or bought a house together? I— I think she didn’t want it either.” he sighed for the uptenth time that evening, and ran a hand through his face.

Roger followed him with his gaze when he stood up and started to slowly pace around the living room. “I… I still don’t get it.” he confessed from the sofa. _Where is this going?_

“The problem, Rog, is that I’m making the same mistake all over again. I keep building the same walls around me again and again. Anita and I almost broke up a couple of times because of it, and every time I think about it, about our relationship— I realize even if she hadn’t found him we wouldn’t have worked out. Because of me, because I’m seemingly incapable of— of—”

Seeing how distressed his boyfriend was, Roger made a move to stand and get to him, hug him, calm him town, tell him everything was alright. “Bri—”

But before he could stand up, Brian crossed the room and kneeled in front of him. “No, Rog, listen to me. I pushed away the first person I loved because I wanted to wait for you, and now that I have you I repeat the same process.” He took a deep breath and took both of Roger’s hands, caressing his knuckles with his thumbs and staring at his eyes without even missing a second to blink. He seemed to be taking him in, like the day at the park, on their first date. He brought a hand to his cheek and smiled softly, relaxing completely just by touching Roger. “I love you. I’m deeply and foolishly in love with you, and I plan on staying that way until the day I die. I’m sorry it took me so long, and I’m sorry I had to be a jerk to realize, but I’m saying it now and I plan on keep saying it until you get tired to hear it.” he paused for a moment, softly bit his lower lip, and smiled nervously. “If you want me to, that is.”

Roger was, for the first time in a long, long time, at a loss for words. He reminded Brian of the first time they met, bumping into each other on the copy room. Truth be told, he had exactly the same expression: bewilderment, his eyes wide as he stared down at Brian, his mouth slightly ajar; but his stare did not move, remaining on Brian’s eyes for the most agonizing and tortuous thirty seconds of his life.

Finally, he noticed he still have to give him an answer.

“Oh,” Roger, the pinnacle of eloquence, said.

Brian blinked and raised both his eyebrows. “ _Oh_?” he asked.

Roger snapped out of it and shook his head, looking like he had been awoken from a profound sleep. “No, I mean— I— It’s just that I…” he inhaled sharply and stood up before running to his bedroom without giving any explanation to Brian, who was still very much kneeling in front of the sofa and who was still feeling very much anxious. Was that a rejection? Roger’s weird way to say _I don’t love you back_? To run and leave him there?

A moment later, after taking a seat on the couch to reconsider every single one of his life choices, Roger sprinted back into the living room. He had a paper in his hand, and walked straight to Brian. “I was planning on giving you this today. Actually I had been meaning to tell you, but I… I didn’t find the right moment and… and I didn’t dare, I guess, whatever, but uhm, so— so I thought of giving you this instead so that none of us had to be the first one to technically _say_ it, but then you came home all jerk-ish and I kinda forgot about it until now, so, uh, if you could be so kind to read it…”

He was aware he had been rambling, but he was just too nervous to keep his mouth shut. He shifted from one foot to another and chewed on his lip as Brian took the card from his hands and, after sending him one last curious look, opened it.

Roger was no artist. He knew that. He also knew that it looked a bit like a toddler did it, with all the extra glue and the slightly tilted squares— he had _tried_ to make them looked straight, but then again, he was no artist.

He also knew it was a very old joke. He had cut the squares of the elements iodine, lutetium, vanadium, yttrium, oxygen and uranium from his book and glued them so that they spelled “I love you”. Well, actually they spelled “I LuV YOU”, but you can’t always get exactly what you want in life. God, it was stupid. It was _so stupid._ He was already regretting doing it and giving it to Brian. Why couldn’t he just say it back like any normal, mature boyfriend? Why did he have to be such a dumb mess?

“I… I thought it would be a good idea at the moment, but uhm… Now I think I should have just answered like a normal, person, shouldn’t I?” he pulled the end of his sleeve, nervously staring at Brian who still had his eyes fixed on the stupid card. “Uhm, Bri…?”

“Yeah.” he mumbled, and by the sound of his voice it looked like he was barely holding back the tears, strained and close to breaking. When he looked up, Roger saw the actual tears that were stubbornly refusing to fall and his heart broke a bit when Brian smiled widely. “Thank you.”

Roger pressed his lips together. “You like it?”

Brian laughed and leaned back on the sofa as if he had lost all his strength and energy in those last minutes. “I love it.” he paused, and then laughed a bit and smiled even _wider_. “I love you.”

Unable of keeping it together for much longer, Roger jumped and straddled his lap, burying his face in Brian’s neck and taking a deep breath. In a second, he started to cry— but it wasn’t because he was sad, or overwhelmed like on their first date. He was just _so happy_ it was difficult containing all those emotions inside.

Brian was quick to wound his arms around the blond, holding him close and letting the tears fall down his cheeks. From time to time he’d laugh a bit, maybe at the absurdity of the situation or maybe just because he felt so relieved there was nothing else he could do. Either way, they stayed like that for what felt like seconds, minutes, hours, until Brian moved his head so he could kiss Roger’s neck, cheek and temple.

After enjoying the smooches and giving them back, Roger pulled back to look at Brian in the eyes. He looked at his face, inch by inch, savouring it, until he leaned in and pressed their foreheads together. “I love you, Brian May. I love you. You have no idea how much of me is… How much I…” he swallowed, and laughed softly. “I just can’t put into words how much I love you.”

Brian smiled again and kissed him softly on the lips. Then, he moved to the nose, both his cheeks, his cheekbones, his forehead, his eyelids and then back to his lips. “Actually, baby,” he whispered, moving his lips one last time to kiss one of Roger’s tears, slowly sliding down his face. “I do know. I feel it.”

“Oh, shut up.” Roger laughed and cradled Brian’s face before kissing him on the lips.

  
  


Two hours later, Brian had helped Roger finish his dinner (they were saving the muffins for later, when they cuddled in front of the TV to hopefully finish that stupid but entertaining reality show) and they were now both taking a bath. Roger was leaning against Brian, his back pressed to Brian’s chest, and they were both playing with the bubbles.

“All I’m saying is maybe we should ask him. I mean, knowing John he’ll say no, but who knows? He’s a damn good bassist. Maybe we get lucky.”

Brian was listening while silently cupping a bit of bubbles and, carefully, placing them on Roger’s nose. Once he was satisfied with the result, he opened his mouth. “And you’re sure Freddie would like to be the lead singer? Isn’t he busy with his career?” he asked, already trying to gather more bubbles on his forefinger.

Roger wiggled his nose to get rid of them to no avail. “I mean,” he blew on them, but the bubbles stayed right where Brian had placed them. “He’s always loved being the center of attention, and he has an amazing voice. I think he’d love to be a frontman, but of course we’d have to ask him. Maybe he wants to focus on Jim and spend all his free time with him, like the romantic dummy he is. ”

“How preposterous.” Brian nodded while decorating Roger’s hair with a crown of bubbles. It kept falling apart, and he kept slowly rebuilding it.

“Yeah. I think he prefers to hang out with him more than with me.”

“Outrageous.”

“The other day he called me to cancel our date to the movies— which, by the way, we had been planning since like _two weeks ago_ — only because Jim had appeared with a surprise reservation to a fancy restaurant or something like that. How dare he stand me up.”

“Truly shocking. Scandalous.” Brian, who was now very focused on giving the crown some kind of shape, continued. “Disgraceful.”

“Yeah. Are you going _Thesaurus_ on me so that you don’t have to pay attention to what I’m saying?” Roger asked, moving his head so that he could look at Brian and scowl at him.

“You destroyed my crown.” Brian complained as a mere observation before wrapping his arms around Roger and pulling him so close there wasn’t even a millimeter of water between them. “I was listening to you. Freddie’s excited to know his soulmate, just like we were when we started dating. Remember he complained about the exact same things? _You spend so much time with Brian you no longer have time for me_.” he tried to copy Freddie’s tone and musicality, but it came out as a drunk, nasal version of him.

Roger laughed and started caressing Brian’s forearms. “I guess. I should be a good best friend and let him enjoy.”

“Mhm.” Brian mumbled while pressing his lips against the blond’s temple. “Lucky for you, you have an amazing boyfriend of your own to keep you company.”  
  
“Really? Where is he?”

“A great boyfriend.”  
  
“I still don’t see him.”   
  
“A good boyfriend.”   
  
“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“A decent boyfriend who plays the guitar and knows what your favourite muffins are?”

Roger laughed again. Careful not to splash any water on the floor, he turned around on Brian’s arms until their chests were pressed together. He tangled his fingers on Brian’s dark, moist curls, and smiled. “Oh. There you are.” he whispered before leaning in and kissing him on the lips.

Thirty minutes later, and after getting rid of what was left from the bubble crown with lots of complaints on both ends, Roger stood up and got out of the tub while Brian washed off the rests of shampoo from his hair. After wrapping himself in his soft bathrobe he stood in front of the mirror and started drying his blond locks with a towel while complaining about his hair losing brightness or something like that. Truth be told, Brian wasn’t listening this time. He was leaning on the side of the bathtub, using his arms as a pillow as he stared at Roger without emitting a sound.

When Roger was done drying his hair (or trying to), and before he had time to ask Brian why the hell was he still in the water, he said the words that had been swimming around his head for the last hour. “Would you like to move in with me?”

Roger stopped moving, his hand halfway from hanging the towel he had used, and then turned to stare at his boyfriend. “What?”  
  
“It doesn’t have to be now.” Brian continued. “And it doesn’t have to be my apartment. We can look for one we both like.” There was a pause. “But I’d really love to live with you.”

Roger was, to put it lightly, dumbstruck. Too many strong emotions and too many revelations in one day. His tongue felt heavy, his brain seemed to have forgotten how to think and create proper answers and he was stuck with the vocabulary of a three year old. “I— Uhm, I—”

“You don’t have to answer now.” Brian reassured him as he stood and removed the plug from the tub. “I just wanted you to know I’d like to take the next step. With you.” he added before leaning in and, still dripping and naked and in the middle of the bathroom, kissed Roger on the forehead. “Whenever you’re ready, I am.” he whispered, flashing Roger a tiny smile. He nodded and followed Brian a couple of minutes later to his bedroom to put on some pyjamas, and then they went to the living room to cuddle and, as promised, finish the reality show.

Once lodged comfortably under Brian's arm, using his chest as a cushion as he formed abstract shapes on the skin of his tummy with the hand he had slid under his shirt (occasionally, Brian would make a noise and squirm a bit while crackling softly, reminding Roger just how adorably ticklish he was), he allowed his mind to wander.

Living with Brian. Seeing him every morning. Sharing every meal with him. Going every night to bed with him. Listening to his voice from the moment he woke up to the moment he fell asleep. Having him nearer as ever. Looking for a place they both liked and slowly starting to make it feel like home. Starting a life with him.

He moved his head to be able to look at Brian, who was watching the reality show with a mixture of concentration and confusion all over his face. He smiled, so smitten it was almost ridiculous, and used two fingers to force Brian to take his eyes off the screen and turn his face to look at him. He shifted a bit to be eye to eye with him, and softly pressed the fingertip of his forefinger to his lips. Without missing a beat, Brian kissed it and Roger melted.

“I’d love to move in with you.” he murmured, his sight travelling from Brian’s lips to his eyes.

Brian looked surprised for a couple of seconds before pure joy replaced the feeling. “Yeah?”  
  
Roger chuckled and nodded. “Yeah.” he answered, and then lifted the same finger Brian had kissed as if to remark his words. “But I get to choose the colour of our bedroom walls.”

Brian seemed to think it over for a moment, mulling about it before offering Roger his hand for him to shake it. “You’ve got yourself a deal, Mr. Taylor.”  
  
Roger smirked before shaking his hand. “So it seems, Mr. May.”

The next thing he knew, Brian had used his grip to pull Roger to a tight hug, then proceeded to roll on the couch and, consequently, fell _off_ the couch. They accidentally kicked the table and the bag that contained the muffins fell to the ground as well, but their laughs were too loud for them to hear it.

And, truth be told, they wouldn’t care.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really hoped you liked it. I enjoyed writing this, had a lot of fun picturing Roger getting slightly offended in different scenarios. Thank you so much for the love and comments this story recieved!


End file.
